#for a long time i was convinced i wanted the ends of my hair forest green

[celiaelise]

A couple days ago I had the INTENSE urge to get (part of) my hair colored, which is something I haven't considered in years, and even then not very seriously. I'm also just generally averse to even temporarily modifying the natural state of my body in any way? But, like, I even un-archived a years old Pinterest board lol.

Anyway, considering what else was happening with my body at the time, it was probably hormones. I haven't completely rejected the possibility of actually doing it, though.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Mine, Always and Forever ~ Ramsay Bolton x Stark!Reader

Small disclaimer: It's Ramsay we're talking about; The story will have heavy dark themes and scenes that might make you uncomfortable.

Summary: Ramsay's obsession has always been Lady Y/N Stark, since the very moment they were children, and up into their adulthood. Everything he does, he does for her. He would burn the whole world to see her in his arms again, desperately needing him again. Ramsay Snow was going to trample over every noble house known to Westeros, just to gain the right to claim the little she-wolf that encaptured him in her spell.

Y/N was looking down at Sandor Clegane, wearing a conflicted yet highly determined look on her face; He, however, was smirking, he was amused to the point of barking a laugh in her face. His large hands kept a strong grip on her hips to keep her comfortably on his lap.

"Anyone told you you're one crazy lady, little fox?" the disfigured man teased the red haired Stark lady; Her long nails were digging harshly into his shoulders.

"Yes." she said deadpan. "Let them say whatever. As long as I get out of here, I don't care."

"You want me to risk my neck, to get you out of King's Landing. That's bold, even for you." his fingers dug painfully into her flesh. "And you think giving me your maidenhood's gonna sweeten me into losing my life, is that it?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Sandor. I'm only here because you're the only trust-worthy person in this pit of vipers." she hissed at him. "My maidenhood is not yours to take, nor am I giving it away to anyone except the man I've been in love with since I was eleven winters old."

"Sentimentalism won't get you anywhere, girl." he scoffed, finally pushing you off him to tumble on the hard ground. "And neither will you fleeing. Everything is surveilled by the Lions."

"Robb is at the Twins. If I get there, I can return home to Winterfell. I am the oldest - Someone must take care of our home." Y/N got up, her long red hair a beautiful mess all around her. "Sandor, I need you. Please. What do you need me to do? Beg you? I will beg you, if that's what you want."

"Tell me who's that poor bastard." Y/N looked at him confused, but dragged a chair by the bed and sat down.

"Roose Bolton's bastard, Ramsay Snow." her voice was serene and casual. "You know, that crazy guy who gets off on flaying living people."

"I'm beginning to think someone slammed your head against a wall. Girl, you're deranged." she shrugged her shoulders, as if to say she doesn't care much. "Does anyone know about him?"

"My dad used to know I had a thing for Ramsay - Obviously, we didn't speak much about it. If mother found out I was head over heels over a lowly bastard from a disgusting family like the Boltons... Well, I wouldn't hear the end of it." she laughed dryly. "Mother would be very disappointed to know that all of her girls have terrible taste in men - Take Sansa for example, falling for an old dog like you... And, to be fair, I don't think Arya even has a taste for men at all, if you catch my drift."

"The little bird won't sing me sweet thrills." he huffed under his breath. "Convince me, and I'll think about helping you get out of your cage."

"Let's see... It all began many years ago, when I had just passed my eleventh year alive, and my father took me to the Dreadfort for business with Roose Bolton..."

The Stark party arrived on horse-back after many hours of uncomfortable riding through the snow and cold; Eddard was afraid his little girl would get ill - Cat had told him many times not to take her - But he couldn't refuse Y/N's pleading. She was eleven years of age, and behaving very much like how Lyanna used to. Y/N might favour her Tully side, with scarlet hair shining like red copper in the Sun, and light eyes that peered deep into your soul - But at heart, she was a valiant and loyal Wolf.

The forest hiding the Dreadfort was thick, yet beautiful, though in no way could it compare to the woods around Winterfell. It was a warm Spring afternoon, with the flowers in bloom; the sky was blue and embellished with a few lazy clouds, and the breeze was gently rustling through Y/N's long scarlet locks.

Lord Bolton was awaiting the Stark retinue; He took Ned aside to guide him into his council room to speak business; The servants were guided into the Fort to be houses; And Y/N remained trugging behind, looking around and exploring with the curiosity of a little fox.

It was then that she spotted that brunet runt with eyes like crystal icicles; He was staring intently at her from behind a tree. Y/N knew who that was - Ramsay Snow, the bastard of Roose Bolton. Her dad mentioned him, and told her to be nice to him. Of course she was gonna be nice to him - She loves Jon and treats him just like her younger brother, because that's what he is!

With a bow and quiver attached to her back, Y/N stepped towards the boy, extending her hand towards him. "You are Ramsay Snow, aren't you?" the boy looked at her, soulless, but grumbled affirmatively. "I'm Y/N. Want to come help me out with my archery?" he looked at her as if she was crazy; Y/N let out an impatient sigh, and turned on her heel. "You know the woods better than I do - I am sure you will find me once you remember how to move your feet. Left foot, right foot, and repeat."

She thus wandered into the forest, looking for a place to practice her archery; It didn't take long before she heard the noise of rapid footsteps approaching. Ramsay stood right behind her, his demeanour guarded, cold and wary - Typical for that of a mistreated bastard.

"See? I told you you'd find me easily." she let out a soft chuckle, turning her back to him and fidgeting with her bow.

The boy didn't answer immediately, unsure of how to respond to the noble girl. He’d been taught to keep his distance from highborns, especially someone like her, the daughter of the Warden of the North... But there’s something different about her, something that doesn’t seem to care about the invisible lines that separate them, about ranks or blood.

"How did you know who I am?" he asked in a low voice.

"What, Bolton's bastard son?" Ramsay flinched slightly at the word, but Katrina’s tone is curious rather than cruel. She steps closer, studying him with those sharp, Stark eyes. He nods, unsure of what to expect from her. "Dad told me to be as nice to you as I am with my own bastard younger brother. Jon is a delight to have around, truly - Too bad mother can't see that." she shrugged her shoulders lazily. "You don't talk much, do you?"

"I don't know how to speak to noble ladies... My Lady." he admitted begrudgingly. "Nobles aren't supposed to see a bastard like me."

"Well, you can start by calling me by my name - Y/N - And then, you can continue by coming with me and helping me out with my archery." she grinned, and before Ramsay could react, she grabbed his wrist and tugged him along, her energy infectious. Ramsay stumbled slightly, caught off guard by her boldness, but he didn’t resist. For once, he didn't protest to being dragged around - He enjoyed the physical touch from her.

"Where are you taking me?" the boy found himself speaking a little louder.

"Deeper into the forest! I need someone to help me practice. I can't hit anything if I don't have someone to fetch the arrows."

Ramsay blinked, bewildered by how casually she dismissed the divide between them. He’d never been treated like this before — Like he’s just another boy, not the bastard son of Roose Bolton. And yet, there’s something exciting about the way she was pulling him along, like he was a part of her adventure rather than an outsider.

They reached a small clearing in the woods. Katrina lets go of his wrist and unslinged her bow, not wasting any time. She lines up an arrow, but her aim is slightly off. The arrow flies past the tree trunk she was aiming at and disappears into the underbrush.

"Damn it!" Y/N stomped her foot impatiently. "This is all Robb's fault! If he hadn't told on me, I would have been able to train with Theon!" she whined so cutely, the bastard thought with amusement, watching her look around aimlessly for that arrow. "Great, it's lost. Only four left I guess." she grumbled to herself with resentment.

Ramsay hesitated for a moment, before rushing toward the underbrush. He found the arrow easily enough and returned it to her, watching as her eyes widened in awe.

"You found it - And so easily! How cool!" no one had ever praised him before - It felt really good. "You know how to shoot?" he nodded his head. "Can you teach me?"

The boy stepped to her side, raising her arms up and placing her in position. Without even realising, his hands lingered on her body; He was enjoying touching her so much, and she wasn't protesting, too focused on holding the bow and arrow properly with those small, delicate hands of hers. She was so very cute, he thought to himself, as he positioned himself in a way that almost engulfed her whole.

"You’re holding it wrong." he muttered into her ear. "Follow the trajectory of my finger - Focus on the target and hold the tip of the arrow a little above the spot you want to hit. Draw the string with an inhale, and release with an exhale." he then fixed the angle of her drawing arm. "Boys won't tell you this, but girls have this small curvature of the arm - To aim properly, you'd have to arch your arm like this... And it will improve your accuracy." he then kicked a little at her feet, getting them in position. "Posture is half the work; Stand straight... And release."

With all points ticked, Y/N released the arrow, and lodged itself close to where it was supposed to reach; It hit the tree trunk, which was all that mattered for a beginner. "Wow! Robb will be so jealous when I beat him at archery next time!" her voice went up cutely as she chirped with excitement, almost bouncing on the spot with glee. "Thank you, Ramsay, thank you!" huh... She thanked him. What a peculiar girl.

"Don't thank me until you win." he teased her. "Try again - Without my help this time." that comment stopped her in her little joy party. Right, Ramsay won't be there to help her. Damn.

Regaining posture, Y/N drew the bowstring back, feeling the difference in her stance. She released the arrow, and this time it hit the tree trunk with a satisfying thud. She did that, all by herself! She grinned, turning to Ramsay with a look of triumph and victory.

"Was that cool?!" was she asking for validation - From him?!

"Yes, My Lady, you did well." she didn't seem to notice the way he called her; She was far too absorbed into her success and practice.

Ramsay smiled for the first time in his life; a small, hesitant smile that Y/N almost missed - But she caught it, and something about that moment made her feel like she’d cracked through a layer of ice.

For once, the boy felt at ease around another human being, even if that person was an eleven year old brazen noble lady who tried to best her younger brothers at silly things like archery and swordsmanship. Wasn't she supposed to learn embroidery and other girly things? Well, now that he thought it over, Ramsay was sure most noble Lords wouldn't take their daughters with them on delegations; They'd take their sons, right? It only meant Lord Stark loved his daughter very much, he noted. Not that he'd know what that was - Surely, the little haughty thing was going to forget all about him.

As the sun began to set, Ramsay realised he had to escort the young lady back, before either her father worries, or his father thinks he murdered her. That bloody monster - He hated his father more than he hated anyone alive. He was going to get the most miserable death there is.

For dinner, however, Ramsay wasn't allowed to sit at the table with the nobles; Y/N's mother also didn't want Jon to sit with the rest of the children... So in that regard, she could understand the miserable, spiteful look on Ramsay's face. It was Y/N and Robb who begged their dad to allow Jon and Theon to eat with them... But Y/N was afraid of Roose Bolton and his terrifying icy glare - He was empty, and ruthless, just like a harsh blizzard.

In a way, Y/N was glad they'll only be staying one more night in this awful place... But she would dearly miss her new friend. She wonders if she'll ever see him again - Hopefully, yes!

The night settled swiftly over the cold stone halls of the Dreadfort - The place was deathly silent, save for the scary howling wind and the occasional flicker of torchlight casting long, terrifying shadows all around.

Ramsay was lying on the bed, half-asleep, and thinking over the events of the day - His mind was obsessively settled on the young noble lady who treated him so well, who smiled so sweetly at him... Who felt so good in his arms. He loved how she dragged him all around, and grinned so enthusiastically; How she thanked him for helping her with archery... In his perverse mind, he wanted to bury his hands in that gorgeous mess of long red hair and pull her into his arms, never to let go ever again; He wanted to squish her in his arms until she explode, that's how cute she was; He wanted to slam his lips against hers and kiss her until she had no more air in her lungs, and her body was bruised and imprinted with his hands all over.

Not once did he expect to hear the heavy door of his sparsely furnished cold room creaking open, revealing the very girl he was fantasising over, wearing a thick nightgown and holding tightly a fur-lined cloaked draped over her small shoulders; Her wild hair was even more tousled than before.

The air is cold, a reminder of the unforgiving northern weather. Ramsay’s small, sparsely furnished room is dimly lit by a single candle on the bedside table. She waited for a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, before walking in - The boy, already on edge, bolted right up, startled by the sudden intrusion. His first thought was that an assassin was trying to get him, or his father wanted to beat him half to death -

But no. It was the object of his obsessions. Y/N stepped forward, letting the dim light of the fireplace reveal her nervous face. The boy's stiffness melted away, and he leaned forward to look at her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice as cold as that of his father.

Y/N offered a small, sheepish smile, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders as she moved closer to his bed. "I don't like sleeping alone. It's cold and scary here." she said, moving her bare feet closer to the bed. "Can I sleep in your room... Please?"

Ramsay blinked in shock, still processing her presence. It was not every day that a noble’s daughter sneaked into his room in the middle of the night, asking to spend the night. He shifted, making space on the bed as Y/N climbed on... The sheep walked right into the wolf's den.

"I thought noble ladies weren't allowed alone in a room with a boy - A lowly bastard, no less. Who knows what I'll do to you." she looked at him all confused and innocent - Of course she had no idea what he was talking about; No one tells noble ladies what men want to do to them... How they want to ravage them...

"No one has to know I am here." she smiled sweetly. "Besides - I had something for you." all of his wicked thoughts dispersed on the spot, thinking what it could be that she brought - For him! He felt a weird warmth spread through his chest - And much below also; He watched attentively as Y/N revealed a small tray filled with desserts from inside her cloak - All the sweet desserts a bastard son like him wasn't allowed to eat, from the dinner he wasn't allowed to attend.

"I am sorry... Your father scared me too much... I was too much of a coward to ask him to let you dine with us." she said in a tender, guilty voice, placing the plate on the bed for him to try out the cakes. "At home, mother doesn't want to see Jon and Theon, our ward, eat with us... So I and Robb begged dad to let them eat with us, and he agreed." she messed up her already rousled hair. "Forgive me."

Ramsay looked deep into her eyes, making her look away with a blush; She didn't seem to like holding eye-contact, he realised; He was intimidating her with his usually cold and empty expression - Just like his father. She was afraid of his father - And rightfully so; But he didn't want her to be afraid of him too; He wanted Lady Y/N to like him, to love him, to want him and only him.

"It's a man's job to protect his woman, Y/N, not the other way around." he let out a small, sardonic chuckle. "I can't blame you for being scared of my Lord Father. I know he can look rather... Intimidating."

"But... It's not right... And regardless of the circumstances of your birth, you should not be treated any less. You deserve better than this." Ramsay's body grew ever hotter the more she spoke, and were it not for his self-control, who knows what he would have done to this little fox girl. She was far too cute for her own good... Far too nice... And nice girls always end up the worst, because of monsters like him.

But it was fine. He was a monster, but he would protect her. His mind was settled - Y/N was his, and only his.

"Are you not cold?" she asked all of a sudden; He had forgotten he was wearing no shirt, and his body was in full view. She was worried about him, how cute of her.

"I am a man of the North, Y/N. This is how I sleep every night." he let himself fall back on the bed, casually eating some of those little cakes. "You're just cold because you're a girl, and you're all frail and mellow. You need a man's heat to keep you warm through the night." he ended with a cocky smirk addressed her way.

"Is that so?" she hummed softly. "Prove to me that you are right, then." how cheeky she was, Ramsay thought to himself, watching with shock as the little vixen laid herself so carefree in his arms; Her hand was placed comfortably on his shoulder, and she nestled herself on his side. "Keep me warm."

"What a playful little minx." he scoffed, watching her so cutely clinging to his body. He reveled in the silence broken only by him enjoying the cakes she brought over, and soon enough, in her rhythmic slow breathing - She had fallen asleep so easily, he was truly mesmerised. She was so cute and little compared to him, he realised once again.

As the candle flickered and the night deepened, Ramsay stood awake for a little while longer, his mind racing with wild thoughts and feeling he's never experienced before. Eventually, however, the warmth of her presence lulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep, yet holding a small smile of triumph on his face.

The very next day, early in the morning, Lady Y/N sneaked out of Ramsay's room and went back into her own so no one would suspect a thing. She received breakfast in bed and her maid helped her dressed and get ready for another exciting day spent with Ramsay.

This time, the bastard thought he'd show off - He brought her to the kennels to his the hounds. It was his idea to raise dogs to hunt and guard the place and what not; The kennel master was a middle-aged man full of experience... But his daughter was an annoying little girl around his age. She wanted to appear strong and rough around him... To show off. Why, he couldn't quite understand - He was pretty sure girls this age weren't so interested in boys and their bodies - Unlike boys wanting desperately to see girls naked.

Lady Y/N was cheeky, yes, but she was gracious also; Myranda, on the other hand, was a disgrace... A disgrace that Ramsay loved to humiliate. Unfortunately for him, it seemed that she also enjoyed that kind of treatment in a rather profound way.

The kennels were dark and chilly, filled with low rumbles and growls, and the smell of straw and wet dog fur. The light filtered through narrow, creaked windows... Y/N didn't think it was a nice place for dogs to stay at, but at least they were protected from the snow, wind and cold outside.

Much to Ramsay's dismay, Myranda was there, tending to the dogs and snapping at them every once in a while; She wasn't stern - She was harsh and cruel; The exact opposite of Lady Stark, who had a natural affinity for animals, and the gift of warmth and compassion to all living beings.

With a protective arm holding Y/N firm into his chest, he showed off his dogs; Most of them were females, large, with long fur, and highly aggressive. "What do you think about my bitches, Y/N? They make the best hunters, not the mutts." he spoke cockily. "And they know to obey only their master."

Y/N's visage was tender and soft; With no fear, she approached one of the dogs who had just given birth, and her puppies were sucking at her teats. She knelt by her side; The dog's menacing growls all but dissipated once she sniffed the lady's hand, allowing her to pet her head.

"What a gorgeous mommy you are, darling! Oh, but you must be cold - Your little ones too!" Y/N took off her cloak, draping her mother dog nicely in it. "There - Isn't it better? Nice and toasty!"

Ramsay watched the interaction with a mix of shock and fascination - He was so used to commanding the dogs through fear and dominance, that he hadn't expected the dogs to listen so quickly to a gentle word. Was it the Wolf's blood coursing through her veins that made her a canine whisperer? Or was it simply that sweet voice of her that bewitched even him? "I’ve never seen them act like that. They usually tear anyone apart who gets too close."

Y/N smiled sweetly, scratching the dog behind her ears, completely at ease. "They’re just like people, but trust-worthy and reliable. If you show them kindness, they’ll return it. They’re not so different from us, really."

Before Ramsay can respond, a harsh voice cut through the air. Myranda, holding a leash, stood at the other end of the kennel, glaring at Y/n with undisguised jealousy. She tugged on the leash, yanking a dog that was already straining against her rough grip. "They’re not pets, they’re beasts. You can’t trust them with soft words, or they’ll turn on you. That one already bit me once."

The dog on the leash cowered, her tail between her legs as Myranda yanked it towards her. Y/N frowned, rising to her feet. The bastard didn't think even a small, little girl like her could hold such an undeniable presence and imposing aura. "Maybe if you weren’t so harsh, they wouldn’t bite. They’re only reacting to how you treat them."

Myranda’s face flushed with anger, her grip tightening on the leash. She sneered at Y/N, her eyes dark with resentment and spite. "What would you know about it? You’re just a spoiled little brat who doesn’t understand anything about the real world." How dare that obnoxious slut speak like that to his darling little fox? She was his - His only - And no one was allowed to treat her like this. Ramsay, sensing the tension, steps forward. His expression shifts, a cold smirk curling his lips as he looked at Myranda, enjoying the sudden shift in her demeanour; Immediately meek and pathetic. It was time to put her back in her place.

"Watch your tongue, Myranda. What's the filthy peasant daughter of the kennel master, compared to the Wolf Lady herself?" he hissed at the girl who immediately went quiet; She flinched at his harsh tone, her eyes were wide and hurt. She was used to his cruel streak, but it still stung in the sweetest way... But to be scolded like that in front of that little whore...

"I... I didn’t mean anything by it, Ramsay. I just—" she was at a loss for words; Her mind was empty as always, the boy remarked spitefully.

"Didn't mean anything, you say - Any other noble would have your tongue for speaking ill of Lady Y/N Stark; You should fall on your knees and seek forgiveness. She is graceful, don't you think? If it were me, well... We both know what I like to do with disobedient cunts like you, don't you, Myranda?" his gargoyle eyes stared emptily into her own tearful eyes; Somewhere lower, she noticed the subtle way the bastard showed off a small knife that she knew very well was used to flay. She gulped, hanging her head low, and trembling pathetically. "I'm waiting, Myranda - Where is that apology?"

As Myranda bit her lip, holding back the tears of her weakness, Y/N sighed, walking in front of her; Though Y/N was smaller than her, she still placed her hand gently on her hand. "It's fine - She's not wrong. I couldn't possibly be knowledgeable in dogs than someone who was raised in the arts of dog-raising. The only difference is the approach - I have a different approach in caring for my animals, and it has proven far more reliable than ruling with an iron fist." her voice was soft and tender. "Raise your head. No need to ask for forgiveness. Just make sure they are all well taken care of." with a graceful twirl, Y/N turned to her friend and hooked her arm to his, guiding him out into the forest.

"If I was in her place, I'd have shot you when you turned your back at me." he grumbled harshly under his breath.

"She wouldn't have dared, and neither would you - Not for as long as I am Lady Stark, and mine own Lord Father is here, on the very premises... Not unless you want to meet a fate worse than death." oh, that wicked smirk of her, so different than anything sweet and tender she embodied thus far; The twisted grin of a rabid fox, not the sweet smile of a flower.

"What would you know, the little flower knows how to play to her political strength. How adorable." he huffed, pulling her into his side harshly. "Politics aside, you are still just a frail little thing that can break so easily... It would be a pity if anyone did anything to hurt you..."

"So what, you are saying you want to protect me?" she scoffed at him; Though her question was genuine, and his answer even more so.

"Yes." once they were deep into the forest, he held her in a painfully tight embrace, his face buried in the crook of her neck; She smelled sweet, like honey and flowers... It only made him want to taste her even more. "Always, and forever."

Just like the previous night, Y/N had snuck out of her room again, her small feet padding silently across the cold stone floor. The Dreadfort, with its bleak atmosphere, had never bothered her, not with Ramsay nearby. Tonight, though, was different. It was her last night here, and the thought of leaving him behind made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t quite understand. Ramsay was her friend, and though the Dreadfort wasn't too far away from Winterfell, it was unbecoming of a young Lady to go out of her way to visit a bastard... She wouldn't be allowed to.

She slipped into Ramsay’s room, finding him lying on his bed, shirtless, his dark eyes gleaming as he watched her approach, just like a predator seeing delicious prey walk willingly inside his lair.

“You’re not supposed to be here, little fox.” he drawled, the nickname slipping from his lips with ease.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though a small pout formed on her lips as she climbed in bed next to him. “I don’t care. It’s too cold in my room, and I don’t want to be alone.”

Ramsay smirked, propping himself up on one elbow. He was shirtless again. “Afraid of the dark, are we?” His tone was teasing, but his eyes held an intensity that belied his playful words.

She stuck her tongue out at him but nodded nonetheless, crossing her arms over her chest. "I am used to sleeping with my siblings."

"Fine, fine, little rose, I won't tease you about it - After all, you've come to seek my protection; How can I tease a lovely little lady such as yourself." she blushed softly at her new nickname, looking away but said nothing. “You know, sweetling..." Ramsay began, his voice dripping with mischief. “Did you know there are things that boys and girls do together when they’re older. Things you wouldn’t even imagine.” he leaned closer to her body, his bare chest against her back; His hand found itself playing with a velvety lock of red hair - It was quite addicting. SHE was addicting.

Y/N turned her head a little to look at him, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean, Ramsay?”

His grin widened, enjoying the way her innocent mind struggled to grasp the meaning behind his words... His intentions. “Oh, nothing you’d understand now...” he said, his tone teasing. “But one day, when you’re older… I could teach you.”

Y/N tilted her head, still perplexed. “Teach me what?”

Ramsay leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What boys and girls do together when they’re alone. It’s something… Special.”

She blinked at him, her confusion deepening. “Like playing games?”

He chuckled, a dark sound that made her shiver despite the warmth of his presence. "I suppose... A game only for grown-ups.”

Katrina pouted, feeling as though he was making fun of her. “I’m not that young, Ramsay. Mother said I am old enough to flower soon - That makes me an adult in the eyes of the noble families.”

He reached out, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear, his touch lingering a little too long. “And when that time comes, sweetling, I’ll make sure you know everything.”

The thought of Y/N flowering soon... The thought of making her his own... It made his body all hot and greedy. Some day, when she becomes a woman, he wanted to be the one to claim her; Her one and only; The only man she ever looks at. But he was a bastard, and she was the eldest daughter of the Stark Family... How the hell could he make her his, forever?

It was a maddening thought... That his bastard label would keep him away from her. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. There was no way any man would be capable of taking care of her the way only HE could. No one could make her as happy as he can. No one can understand her the way he does.

She stared at him, unsure of what to say. There was something in his tone, something she didn’t quite understand, but it made her feel uneasy... But also, enticed. Curious. Addicted. Still, she trusted him. He was her friend, after all... And will forever be her friend... Whether he wants to or not. What Lady Y/N Stark wanted, she got, even if she had to force the hands of fate to achieve her goals.

Ramsay, noticing the uncertainty in her eyes, decided to push her just a little further. “You should just enjoy being a little girl, for now, all innocent and pure like a dove. Don’t worry about what happens when you’re older.” he hummed, his low, husky voice, whispering in her ear, making her shudder and blush. "I'll take care of everything."

Katrina huffed, turning her face away from him. “You’re always saying things I don’t understand.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending a strange thrill through him. He sneaked his arms around her body, pulling her into his chest; One hand was holding strongly onto her small body, while the other held her jaw, firm but gentle. “Noble men don't know horseshite about these things - They're all stupid, but have the pride of lions and cockiness like no other. They think they know the game well, but they are shamefully bad... And without an experienced man to teach them, you, noble ladies, are all cute and confused, losing the game...” ah, tsk tsk, bad Ramsay, he was talking too much when he shouldn't... Not now.

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. “You’re just trying to confuse me.” she huffed, quite like a brat, getting out of his clutches and drawing the blanket over her.

Ramsay watched her for a moment, his smirk fading as he realized she was serious about ignoring him. She couldn't ignore her. She wasn't allowed to. She was supposed to look at him with those beautiful eyes of hers - To look at him, and only him.

The silence stretched on, and something dark and possessive flared up inside him. He hated being ignored, especially by her. Desperate for her attention, he threw the blanket off of her, pinning her down on the bed before she could react. He straddled her waist, his hands holding her wrists above her head as he loomed over her.

Y/N gasped in surprise, her wide eyes locking with his - Finally, she was looking at him. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them charged with something neither could name.

Ramsay’s smirk returned - He enjoyed looking down at her like that, her face all innocent and confused, so damn precious. "Ramsay...?" don't talk to him in that sweet voice... Don't... He'll lose control... He will...

To stop his own wicked thoughts and urges, he started tickling her sides mercilessly. Y/N squealed, her laughter filling the room as she squirmed beneath him, trying in vain to escape his grasp. This wasn't any better, he noted; It only made him more desperate to touch her, to hold her... To...

“Ramsay, stop!” she begged, her voice breathless with laughter - He only tickled her harder, delighting in her helplessness. There was something so special about ignoring such lovely pleas.

In her desperate attempts to defend herself, Y/N’s nails raked across his arm, deep enough to draw blood. Ramsay hissed at the sharp sting, letting out a surprising sound of pleasure... Surprising even for him... but he didn’t stop tickling her until she was breathless and teary-eyed from laughing and her body aching for freedom and mercy.

Finally, he relented, looking down at her with a mixture of amusement and something darker... Victory, triumph... Y/N panted, her chest heaving as she caught her breath - Yet her eyes widened when she saw the red lines on his arm, painting his pale arm a lovely shade of crimson red.

“Ramsay...! I’m sorry - I'm so sorry, I didn’t mean to!” she shot up, her voice small as she reached out to touch the scratch she had left.

Ramsay caught her hand, his grip firm but not painful. He looked at the blood, then at her, a strange expression on his face. “It’s nothing.” he said, though the intensity in his gaze made her heart flutter with unease. “Just a mark... A precious little reminder.”

“A reminder? Of what?” she asked, confused, watching him lick the blood leaking down his skin.

His smirk returned, though there was something almost possessive in his eyes. “That you, little Kitten, are all mine, and only mine; Even when you leave, you’ll still be mine." he wiped some of the blood his his thumb, and unexpectedly, he pressed it gently against her bottom lip - Pink turning red - Then a little inside, touching her tongue. "You want us to be together, don't you, My Lady?" he got closer to her face, now both hands cupping her small face carefully. "Always and forever."

"Yes... I want us to be friends... Forever." he wanted to kiss those plump dewy lips so bad, but he couldn't; Not not. She was driving him crazy... A twisted child with nefarious cravings and desires... And all his obsessions channeled into a single being... A precious little kitten who loves to scratch him. "Always and forever." he kissed her forehead gently, almost as if he was sealing an unspoken vow between them.

The bastard of Dreadfort wasn't happy to see his cute little kitten leave; But he couldn't do anything about it - Not yet. He lingered in the back, far away, and watched as her horse disappeared into the horizon. He knew it was going to be an awful day for him. He just knew.

The atmosphere was terrible all around the fort, heavy with the chill of winter and the unspoken tension that has settled over the castle. Ramsay remained in his small room, reflecting on the recent visit, the fleeting moments of warmth with Lady Y/N still fresh in his mind.

Every time his mind lingered back on their closeness, his body grew all hot and restless; He felt himself going crazy, needing to touch himself to relieve the pressure building inside his stomach; His core was all knots and ache.

He couldn't though... He couldn't... He had to hold on... It wasn't night yet, and he risked anyone barging inside his room... But he needed her so badly... Her scorching touch on his ice-cold skin... Those sweet, soft rose petal lips on his rough, chapped ones... Her small body, all cute and frail under his own... At his mercy...

His rapid thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching his room. His heart quickened even more, a sense of dread creeping in. He knew what was going to happen, and he dreaded every second of it.

The door opened, and Roose Bolton stepped inside, his expression as unreadable as ever... But Ramsay knew better than to trust the calm before the storm.

"Do you have anything you wish to tell me, Ramsay?" those harsh eyes bore silently into him, carving his heart out.

"No... Father." he muttered under his breath, getting off the bed and standing in front of his father, his head hung, but jaw clenched in anger and humiliation.

"Is that so?" the boy remained quiet. "I’ve heard... Things, Ramsay. Things I don’t like."

Ramsay tensed, his eyes meeting his father’s cold, manipulative gaze. He knew what was coming, and though he’s experienced his father’s wrath before, the dread never really faded. He tried to stand taller, to show no weakness, but the apprehension was clear in his voice.

"Lady Y/N wanted to talk to me. She was bored with no child her age around, so she dragged me to be her companion. I couldn't refuse the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark..." he couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to; He was desperate for her attention, after all. It was only by luck that he captured her attention so easily - And by fate, he will continue aligning with her, no matter what obstacles jump in his way.

Roose’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. He stepped closer, his presence looming over the subject of his deepest disappointments and shame, who instinctively took a step back. "In case you've forgotten - You’re a lowly bastard, Ramsay. You might be my son by blood, but you will never be a Bolton in the eyes of the world." he spat at his son who flinched habitually. "Your place is not with the likes of her. You forget yourself too easily. We are lucky Lord Stark didn't have your head for tainting his precious daughter's air."

The words cut deep into his heart, a reminder of the bitter truth Ramsay always tried to ignore... But this time, they stung more than usual, because for a moment, Y/N made him believe he could be something more.

"Lady Y/N said Lord Stark agreed to allow the bastard and the ward to dine at the same table as his legitimate children. They treat them like their own flesh and blood..." the words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted his impertinence. Roose’s expression darkened further, his patience wearing thin.

"You fool - How dare you fall in love with a noblewoman?! You think Lord Stark would ever allow his eldest daughter to marry some filthy low-life like you and take his riches? His noble name? Have you lost your mind, child? This is not how I raised you." his voice boomed painfully through the echoing empty stone walls of his room. "Love and foolishness are weakness, Ramsay, and I will not tolerate either in my son."

Before Ramsay could react, Roose’s hand struck him, delivering a sharp backhand across Ramsay’s face - The force of the blow sent him stumbling, crashing into the bedside table, the candle tumbling to the floor. Pain spread across his cheek, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation that followed as Roose grabbed him by the neck, dragging him back to his feet.

"You are my son, Ramsay, and you will do as I say. I will not have you ruin yourself over foolish maiden dreams of love and marriage . You are a tool, nothing more - And I will carve you into something useful, no matter how much you resist." Ramsay tried to fight back, to push against his father’s grip, but he was no match for Roose’s strength and iron grip.

The beating that followed was brutal, each strike a lesson in obedience, in submission, a reminder of the cruelty that defines his existence. He tried not to cry out, to show no weakness - And he did just that. Ramsay utter no sound through it all.

When Roose finally released him, Ramsay crumpled to the floor, gasping for air, his body battered and bruised. Roose looked down at him, his expression harsh and unforgiving.

"Remember this, Ramsay - You are nothing but my bastard son, and you will learn your place, or I will teach it to you until you understand."

Roose left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Ramsay was left alone, the echoes of his father’s words ringing in his ears, the pain throbbing through his body. He remained there, motionless on the ground and growling like a rabid animal.

Hours passed before Ramsay finally moved, dragging himself back onto the bed, wincing with every motion. He stares at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of emotions — Anger, shame, dread.

He thought of Y/N, of her kindness, of the way she treated him like he was worth something. That memory was a lifeline, something to hold onto in the darkness, but it was also a source of pain, a reminder of what he can never have...

He clenched his fists, the pain in his body overshadowed by the rage building inside him. He hated his father, hated the world that condemned him to this life, hated the fact that he was born a bastard - But most of all, he hated that he cared — That he yearned for something more, something better.

"I will make them pay." the words were whispered into the darkness, a promise to himself. "I will kill them all." he punched the ground with his fist until it became a bloody mess - Yet he felt no pain at all, only wrath.

He knew he couldn't change the circumstances of his birth, but he could at least take control of his life. He could become what his father wanted — A lethal weapon - But he will do so on his terms; And one day, when he has the power to make sure no one ever hurts him again, he will walk forward to force all of his wishes to come true...

Even if that meant kidnapping Lady Y/N Stark and marrying her in secret.

Three years down the line, Y/N was now 14 years of age, and putting her brothers to shame when it came to archery and hunting; Thus, they all agreed they would have a hunting competition, to which, albeit reticently, their father agreed.

Three whole days spent in the Wolfswood; The one who brings the most game wins the contest - Thus, Theon, Y/N, Robb and Jon rode confidently into the forest.

The Wolfswood was a dense, ancient forest stretching between Winterfell and the Dreadfort - She felt so close, yet so far from her best friend; Alas, she couldn't afford to think of him. She had to win. The woods were thick, the towering trees created a canopy that blocked out much of the sky, leaving only slivers of light to pierce the darkness. The forest was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and distant cries of creatures every now and again.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale light over the clearing where Y/N had set up her camp. She’d done well so far, managing to bring down two deer, a boar and a few smaller game, which were now tied securely to a tree. Her brothers were likely doing just as well, but she was determined to win. She had to. If she won, she would forever get rid of her brothers' teasing, or them telling her to return to embroidering. How bothersome.

After finishing her meal, she moved cautiously around the perimeter of her camp, checking the traps she’d set earlier; They were simple, designed more to alert her to danger than to catch anything significant. As she returned to the fire, she couldn't help but shiver slightly. It wasn't the cold that bothered her, but the darkness pressing in around her.

Taking a deep breath and calming her nerves, she settled down by a large tree, its sturdy trunk at her back. The fire crackled, offering some comfort, but the night was still intimidating. She tried to focus on her goal — Winning the competition, proving she was just as capable as her brothers - But the fear of being alone in the dark was still there, lurking at the edges of her mind.

Just as she began to relax, the snap of a trap echoed through the clearing, followed by a loud, furious string of curses. Y/N’s heart leaped into her throat, and she instinctively grabbed her bow, an arrow quickly nocked. Her eyes darted around the shadows until she spotted the source of the commotion.

Hanging upside down by his leg, thrashing and cursing loudly, was Ramsay Snow.

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, her grip on the bow loosening as she lowered the weapon. “Ramsay?!” she muttered, barely believing her eyes.

Ramsay twisted around, his face a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Who else would be stupid enough to get caught in one of your traps, Kitten?”

Finally getting over her shock, Y/N dropped her bow and rushed over, pulling out her knife to cut the rope. Ramsay landed with a thud, groaning as he rubbed his ankle. She knelt beside him, worry etched on her face.

“Are you alright?!” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Ramsay looked up at her, a mischievous grin spreading across his face despite the pain. “I’ve had worse - But really, trapping people now? I didn’t know you’d gotten so ruthless.”

She blushed, embarrassed that she’d caught him of all people. “It wasn’t meant for you! I just didn’t want anything sneaking up on me.”

Ramsay chuckled, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. “And you did a fine job of that." he stepped towards her, and lazily rested his arms on her shoulders, leaning on her body to the point of making her stumble over her feet from his weight. "You could have just asked for help instead of trying to do all this alone.”

Y/N looked at him, his face so close to her own that she could feel her breath. "I genuinely didn't think I would meet you again - Not like this, at least." her voice was so tender and soft; Oh, how he missed her voice.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her. "Yes, I was sad not getting a visit for three whole years... Though now that I look at you, all sadness magically vanished." he smirked at her, his expression confident and cocky. "You still look like a child compared to me."

"You will always be older than me, Ramsay - What exactly do you want me to do about it?" she breathed out, slowly analysing him; He grew up so much in three years... He looked gorgeous. Gorgeous, and deranged. Those crystal clear eyes were swimming with craziness, only highlighted by the peeking moonlight caressing his already pale face.

"Grow up!" with a swift power move, he grabbed her body and lifted her in the air, reveling in the cutesy squeals of her surprise, and the strong grip she held on his shoulders. Little kitten loved to dig her nails in his flesh, how exciting.

"How about you help me win, instead?!" she cried out. "Now please, put me down - And help me out, please!" begrudgingly, he did just that, dragging her to the fire, where she explained the premise of their contest... And how adorable she was, admitting to still feeling afraid of the dark, clinging onto him so adorably.

Ramsay smirked, clearly pleased with her bagging for his help so sweetly. “Of course, Kitten. I’ll make sure you have a little… advantage.”

"Meow." she meowed! She... Meowed, of all things! How was he supposed to keep his hands to himself when she was being so adorable?! It had been three whole years since they last saw each other; She grew even more beautiful than he expected, than he imagined - And now, he can't even touch her! How unnerving.

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in Ramsay’s presence. Though he teased her mercilessly, there was something reassuring about having him by her side - And though she didn’t realize it yet, Ramsay was just as glad to be there with her, the thrill of the hunt only heightened by the prospect of spending the night together in the wild - In the shadows of the Wolfswood, their bond deepened, forged in the darkness and sealed by the blood they would spill together.

Since then, every fortnight, until she would turn 17 years of age, they would meet in their special spot in the Wolfswood. Eddard and Cat sometimes spotted her sneaking away, but they could never get her to say a thing - She was praying in the Godswood or something - No one would believe her.

It was a fortnight after the hunting competition when Y/N first returned to the Wolfswood alone. The memory of Ramsay helping her secure that precious victory over her brothers still lingered in her mind, and she found herself drawn back to the forest, eager to see him again. As she rode into the familiar clearing, she noticed the way the trees seemed to close in around her, the shadows long and deep. She dismounted, tying her horse to a nearby tree, and waited.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close before she could react. She gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as she struggled instinctively, but then she heard his familiar chuckle in her ear.

“Miss me, Kitten?” Ramsay’s voice was a low, teasing murmur.

Y/N relaxed slightly, though she rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Ramsay, you scared me!” she whined, trying and failing to push him away from her.

“That was the point.” he replied, his arms still holding her securely. “It’s no fun if you see me coming.”

She turned in his arms to face him, her expression both annoyed and amused. “One of these days, I’ll get the jump on you.”

Ramsay smirked, clearly pleased by her challenge. “I’d like to see you try.”

Each meeting after that became a game — A test of wits and skill - For the bastard, that is. Ramsay would always arrive first, hiding in the shadows of the forest, waiting impatiently for the perfect moment to strike. Sometimes he would leap out from behind a tree, causing Y/N to yelp in surprise; Other times, he would sneak up silently, wrapping his arms around her waist or pinning her against a tree before she even realized he was there.

With each encounter, Ramsay’s touches grew bolder. He would linger behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, or let his fingers brush against her hair as they walked together through the forest. Y/N, now 16, was aware of his increasing boldness, but she couldn’t deny the thrill it brought her. She was beginning to understand all those suspicious things he would tell her as children - To think he would be so bold and knowledgeable since so long ago... His advances were teasing, playful and straight-forward, and she felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension each time he touched her.

Ramsay seemed to revel in her reactions, his smirk ever-present as he found new ways to surprise and corner her. He would pin her to the ground during their mock fights, holding her down as she struggled and laughed, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite understand. Other times, he would push her against a tree, their faces inches apart, his breath warm against her skin as he teased her mercilessly.

As the years passed, their meetings became a constant in their lives. No matter what happened between Winterfell and the Dreadfort, they always returned to the Wolfswood, where the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

She began bringing her pets— A red wolf named Meleys after the Red Dragon Queen, and a fox named Jade to match her eyes; Meleys, with her fiery fur and fierce loyalty, would growl softly at Ramsay whenever he got too close, while Jade, more curious than cautious, would dart around their feet, sniffing at Ramsay with mild interest, yapping to play with him, or to garner his affections.

One night, after a rather intense wrestling onto the ground that left Y/N pinned beneath Ramsay, her wrists above her head, unable to move and breathing hard, struggling to break free, she managed scratched him, again, drawing blood - This time, it was his neck instead. The sight of the single scarlet line against his pale skin made her freeze, her eyes wide with shock.

"Oh no, not again!" she got naturally worried. "I told you not to tease me so much - Now I hurt you! I'm so sorry!"

Ramsay, however, only laughed, his eyes gleaming with something dark and possessive. He grabbed her in his arms, holding her chin. “Looks like you’ve marked me again, Kitten.” he said, his voice a low purr. “Afraid I forgot who you belonged to?”

Katrina flushed, unsure of what to say. She didn’t fully understand the weight of his words, but the way he looked at her made her heart race in a way she couldn’t quite explain. "Let me wipe the blood... I should put some snow on it to stop the bleeding..."

"Or you could be a good little Kitten and lick the blood away." his affirmation shocked the girl so much that she almost didn't realise she was pulled into his lap, her chest flush against his own. "Or... My Lady doesn't want to take accountability for her actions~?"

"That's... That's weird, I can't... I'm not..." he grabbed her face, fixing it to look deep into her eyes.

"What a naughty, naughty Kitten you've been... You wouldn't want me to punish you... Or... Mayhaps that is exactly what you wish for~?" the blush on her cheeks was as beautifully red as her hair; She was so precious and shy, how sweet... And how hard to resist.

"F-Fine... Stay still..." with reticence, she carefully held onto him, one hand holding his jaw up, and the other keeping herself steady by holding onto his shoulder.

The feeling of her hot, wet tongue trailing the small scratch line along his neck garnered a strong shiver from the young man, and a shameless groan of pleasure; Such a sound, so primal, so masculine, it made Y/N feel even more timid... And intrigued. She wanted to hear more... To make him react more.

She continued in her conquest, using instead her lips, kissing at his skin until there was no more blood leaking down... Each kiss made his grip on her body get stronger to the point of pain... But she loved it. She loved how feral Ramsay could get, so strong, so unchained... So arousing. And then, once she held onto him tighter, and her kisses turned bolder, nipping away at his skin, sucking on it, he was desperate... So desperate, in fact, that he had to roughly push her away and place snow on his neck to cool down his scorching body, or he was sure to burst and make a mess of his breeches... Or worse, force her down and claim her. It wasn't how he wanted her to look at him... But it wasn't easy to hold back around her.

"Never do that again, sweetling - Not to anyone, except me."

As the time approached for Y/N to turn 17, their meetings in the Wolfswood took on a new tension. Ramsay’s touches became more lingering, his teasing words more loaded with meaning. He would hold her closer, his hands sliding down to her waist, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered things that made her cheeks burn. He wanted her so desperately, but there was no way he would destroy the way she craves him so, by taking her against the tree in the forest.

During their last meeting before her birthday, Ramsay surprised her by sneaking up behind her as she sat by a stream, lost in thought. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against him as he nuzzled her neck.

“You’ve gotten better at sneaking up on me.” Katrina admitted, her voice betraying the mix of emotions she felt.

Ramsay smirked, his breath warm against her skin. “I love seeing you squeal for me, My Lady."

She tried to pull away, feeling the intensity of his gaze on her, but he held her fast, his hands firm on her waist. “What do boys and girls do together when they’re old enough?” he had teased her many times before, always with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/N had never fully understood the implications, but she knew enough to feel a flutter of something in her chest — Something that made her both curious and uneasy - The same wicked thing she felt, kissing his neck, and witnessing his raw reactions. That was what happened to young people whose parents never told them how babies were made... And, worse... Parents who never knew how pleasure was made.

“When you’re old enough, I’ll show you.” Ramsay had once promised, his voice dark and mischievous. "I will show you something even better than the games boys and girls do when they're alone." Unfortunately, he wouldn't have the opportunity to show her the hedonistic world of pleasure he succumbed himself into... The world in which he wanted to drown together... For she was forced to join the retinue to King's Landing and search for a proper marriage prospect... Fit for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark.

Y/N was always looking forward to the routine her and Ramsay created for themselves, meeting at the same spot once every two weeks, and catching up, havin fun... She was always the happiest when around him... And yet, this time, Y/N was troubled... Desperate, frustrated, angry, betrayed...

She dismounted from her horse with a heavy heart, her hands trembling as she tied the reins to a nearby tree. Meleys, her red wolf, and Jade, her pet fox, followed closely behind her, sensing the tension that hung in the air. She had come to the clearing many times over the years, but this time felt different... The finality of an ephemeral bliss hung over her neck like a guillotine.

Ramsay was already there, leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes, as always, filled with playful malice and mischief, ready to torment his sweet flower - Though, as she approached him, he straightened, his posture tense, as though bracing himself for the bad news brought by a black raven. In the past three years, not once had he seen her this miserable... This... Sorrowful.

“What's gotten my naughty little Kitten so pissed? No more drapes to scratch? Or human flesh is the only thing that can satisfy you now?” he spoke in his usual dark, taunting voice, but for once, his teasing didn't seem to have the intended effect - Or any at all, for what matters.

Y/N didn't even look at him, or acknowledge his presence. H he greeted her, his voice rougher than usual. Her face was paler than usual, and her eyes were puffy pink and glazed with tears, her brows were furrowed in a deep frown, and her mind lost in thought. He couldn't stand this look on her. She was supposed to be sweet and smile, to be energetic and filled with vitality, to jump on his and scratch him, to cuddle into his arms and purr so lovingly;

She did none of that.

"What's the matter? Daddy found us out?" he scoffed a question, but she merely shook her head. "So?" she said nothing. "Go on. Speak." still nothing. "I do not appreciate this, Y/N."

She nodded in response, unable to find her voice at first. The words she had rehearsed so many times in her mind now seemed hollow, insufficient for the gravity of the moment. In his rage and frustration, Ramsay roughly grabbed the girl by the furs of her dress, wrestling her to the ground into the soothingly cold snow; His hands were holding tightly onto her shoulders, his face twisted into a malicious sneer - Yet one look into her devastated eyes... Her hopelessness... And he was immediately simmered down.

"The King came over a few days ago." she stammered pitifully over her words. "Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King died... And he wants daddy to become the next Hand..." with great difficulty, she managed to utter some words.

"What's that got to do with you?" he hissed under his breath, his eyes not even once flickering away from her own.

"My daddy was forced to accept... Thus, he has to stay in King's Landing." he slowly nodded his head, as if to urge her to continue. "Sansa fell in love with the King's son, Joffrey... I told her he's a real cunt, that he's not the gallant prince she dreams of, from 'The Ballad of Florian and Jonquil'... But she wouldn't listen... She wants to marry him..." she gulped, tears streaming down her face. "She is barely eleven... Hasn't even flowered yet..."

"You were eleven when I met you." Ramsay noted, earning a nod from her. "You are seventeen now, and still an unwed maiden. The eldest Lady Stark." she cringed softly at the affirmation. "They want to trade you to some rich old fuck, like a piece of meat." she nodded again. "How miserable."

"I don't want to go, Ramsay." she whimpered so pitifully, that the young man found his body growing hot. "I want to stay with you - Forever. The North is my home... I-I can't stay there... I can't..."

"A flower of the North, uprooted and forced to wilt in the stench and stifling heat of the South." he muttered under his breath.

"Mother has been furious for a while that daddy let me unmarried for so long... He wanted me to fall in love and marry someone I wanted... But my mother, married out of duty, also wanted me to do the same... Just like the Tully word - Family, Duty, Honour - ... Marry, have many heirs, do your duties..." he had never seen her cry before, but now, she clinged onto him, sobbing into the crook of her neck, so desperately and pitifully that he almost couldn't understand her. "I don't want to marry some pathetic lordling! I don't want to give birth! I don't want it - Any of it!" she whined and mewled like that some more; Ramsay's grip tightened around her protectively... Possessively... And then... "I want you, Ramsay! I want only you! I want to be you friend, I want to have fun with you, I want to marry you - I want to stay with you forever - Forever and Always!"

His breathing was heavy, picking up a little; He dragged her on his lap, and held her so tightly to his chest that she almost got lost inside his strong embrace. "That's right, little Kitten. You are mine, and only mine. No one can have you. No one but me." he grumbled in her ear, his hand burying into her hair, holding her firmly. "Did they find some shit lord yet?" annoyingly enough, she nodded her head.

"Tyrion Lannister... The Imp." she whimpered lowly. "He is a witty and respectful man... I would have a content life with him... He wouldn't force me to do anything I didn't want..." she hiccuped from sobbing. "But he isn't you. No one is you. And I want only you."

The thought of losing her — Of her being taken away to a place where he couldn’t reach her—stoked the fire of his rage once more. “And you brought your pets over to let me take care of them, then?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I don't want your pets, Y/N. I want you.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. She had known for years that Ramsay’s feelings for her were intense, even possessive, but this was the first time he had spoken so plainly. She felt more tears slip down her cheek as she looked up at him, her vision blurred by the emotion she had tried so hard to contain.

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and cupped her face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You’re mine, Y/N.” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a dark promise. “You’ve always been mine, and you always will be.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, wanting to believe him— To believe that they could find a way to be together, despite the forces of the universe pulling them apart. She knew how difficult it would be - Escaping King's Landing was close to blasphemy; She knew the expectations placed upon her as a Stark, and the dangers of being tied to a man like Ramsay... A bastard...

She cared for nothing, except for her happiness. She wanted to be selfish, in spite of how much she loved her family. “I’ll find a way back to you.” she promised, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll escape King’s Landing, I swear it.”

Ramsay’s expression darkened, his grip on her face tightening. “You’d better.” he growled. “Because if you don’t, I’ll come for you. I’ll burn that wretched city to the ground if I have to.”

His words, though terrifying, were also a twisted comfort to her. She knew Ramsay meant every word — He would stop at nothing to claim what he believed was his. But as much as she wanted to be with him, she couldn’t ignore the fear that gripped her heart, the fear that she might not be able to return, that she might be trapped in the South forever. That she would wilt before she got the chance to liberate herself.

Ramsay pulled her closer, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’ll take care of Meleys and Jade.” he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. “But don't forget who you belong to, Y/N."

Y/N nodded, her tears mingling with his breath. She wanted to say something, to reassure him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, a silent promise that she would return to him, no matter the cost.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to hold back another sob that threatened to escape. She couldn’t bear to leave him like this, but she had no choice - She wasn't a wild wolf anymore, but a collared dog on a leash, and the handler was a slut like Myranda.

With one last glance at him, she forced herself out of his protective arms, turned around and mounted her horse, her heart heavy with sorrow. "I cannot say farewell... But I can try and say... I will see you again... Soon."

As she rode away, she heard Ramsay’s voice call out to her, filled with a desperation that shook her to her core. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

Y/N didn’t look back, tears streaming down her face as she urged her horse forward, the forest closing in around her. She knew this wouldn’t be the last time she saw Ramsay, but the thought of the long, uncertain road ahead filled her with dread... And determination to break free from her shackles... A ferocious, feral instinct broke inside of her, and she was ready to transform into the she-wolf she was born to be...

The cold, dimly lit chamber of the Dreadfort, where the stone walls seem to absorb any warmth that might exist felt now even colder than before, Ramsay noted unconsciously, once he realised it had already been over a year since he hasn't seen Y/N... Since she'd been mercilessly snatched away from his grasp.

Roose Bolton sat at his desk, his expression as impassive as ever, while Ramsay stood before him; The tension between father and son was as harshly palpable as always. The air was thick with the scent of burning torches and the ever-present dampness of the castle, a stark reminder of the harshness of the North, didn't bother him anymore; A man of the North would never be bothered by such trivialities.

Fueled by a mixture of fury and frustration, Ramsay is seething inside at the thought of losing Y/N, but his father’s presence was forcing him to maintain a veneer of calm... For as long as humanly possible for him.

Ramsay paced the length of the chamber, his hands clenched behind his back, his mind a storm of rage and dark thoughts - He was restless - Restless as never before, and that restlessness usually brought with it a storm of torture, hedonism and quite a lot of erratic flaying.

The room felt too small, too suffocating; His father’s cold gaze on him felt like a blade pressed to his throat. He wanted nothing more than to unleash his fury, to tear the room apart, and his father with it, but he knew better. Roose Bolton did not tolerate outbursts, and Ramsay knew he had to keep his emotions in check... As long as he was a bastard, his father was still useful... Afterwards, well...

“You are going to dig a dam if you keep pacing.” Roose’s voice broke through his thoughts, a calm, controlled tone that belied the gravity of their discussion. "Don't tell me you're thinking of that Stark girl again."

Ramsay forced himself to stop pacing, turning to face his father. He knew Roose saw everything, knew everything, and any attempt to hide his feelings would be futile. Still, he had to be careful. His voice was tight with barely suppressed anger. “She’s in King’s Landing.” he grumbled. "For over a year."

Roose arched an eyebrow, his expression giving nothing away. “And this concerns you... How, exactly?" his father's words cut as deep as the cold Valyrian steel. "Have you forgotten you place again?"

Ramsay’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to stay calm. "No... Father." he licked his lips, looking down for a few seconds. "But she's a Stark - The daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, and now, Hand of the King. Marrying her - Politically, of course - Would help our House regain power and wealth again."

"MY House." his father's words felt like whips against his skin. "Not yours. You are a Snow, not a Bolton." he continued with a painfully strong word. "Yet." Roose leaned back in his chair, studying his son with those cold, calculating eyes. “You’ve grown attached to the girl, haven’t you?” he said, a faint hint of amusement in his voice. “You don't care about politics - You only care about yourself." he scoffed, sneering at his son with disgust. "It’s only natural for a bastard to crave what he can’t have.” he continued to belittle him even more. "If you got tired of Tansy's cunt, just move to Kyra - And if even she bores you, you have Myranda. There's plenty women in here - Stop wasting time thinking of the one you can never have. You're wasting your time - And mine."

Ramsay’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He hated the way his father spoke, the way he dismissed him, the way he thought him incompetent and lesser, just because he was born out of wedlock. "She's mine. I claimed her - And I will make sure I get what I want."

Roose’s amusement faded, replaced by a steely resolve. “If you want to make her yours in more than just your mind, you’ll have to do more than just ruining the floor of my study chamber.” he said, his voice as cold as the North itself. “Listen clearly to me, Ramsay. We have a new ally - Far more powerful than the Starks.”

Ramsay narrowed his eyes, his anger simmering just below the surface. “What do you mean?” it was the first time he heard his father speaking about aiding someone other than the Starks - Knowing full well the Bolton army was aiding the Young Wolf win against the Lannister - And that his father, also, had to return to the battlefield soon enough.

Roose leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “The Stark boy, Robb, is a threat to the Crown. Naturally, the self-proclaimed 'King In The North' has a huge bounty on his head - And there is a way to remove him from the board, permanently.”

Ramsay’s heart skipped a beat. He had heard whispers of the plot, rumors of a grand betrayal that would see the Young Wolf brought to his knees, but hearing it from his father’s lips made it real, tangible. He had allied with the Lannisters. “The Red Wedding.” he said quietly, more a statement than a question.

Lord Bolton nodded, his expression unreadable. “The army is going to reach the Twins, and Lord Frey demands a groom. Alas, Robb Stark has the same dangerous sense of loyalty that his own father had - The same loyalty that got him killed." he let out a sardonic laugh. "He married the woman he slept with, out of duty - He cannot be the groom; He's sending his uncle, a lowly, incompetent Tully Fish. Of course Walder Frey would feel betrayed... And will act accordingly." his peering eyes stabbed his own, and his voice was threatening and alarming. "If you want to secure your claim to Winterfell, you must act soon. After Robb Stark dies, the next-in-line heirs are merely children of 7 and 3. The heir is clear - Your darling Y/N Stark." Roose smirked ironically, seeing his bastard's interest piqued, for once. "Everyone wants to fuck an heir in her womb, Ramsay. She is every Noble House's target." his jaw clenched in anger, in rage, in madness. "But only you must claim her maidenhood, make her your woman and have her bare your heirs. It is the only way to secure your position as the next Lord Bolton."

Ramsay’s mind raced. The idea of Robb Stark dead, of Winterfell ripe for the taking, filled him with a dark excitement. But it was Y/N’s face that haunted his thoughts, her tearful promise to return to him, to escape the South and come back to the North. The thought of losing her, of her being out of his reach, drove him to the brink of madness. Then, he remembered the tears painting her face, her distraught, her agony - How loudly she yelled that she didn't want to be a tool to create heirs? That she didn't want to give birth, because she was terrified of the pain, terrified of death, of motherhood - Of everything? And he was on the same wavelength as her - No way he wanted to be a father - Not while his mind still works properly. But Roose continued, his voice like ice, waking him up from his excruciating inner conflict. “Do something useful for once in your pathetic, miserable life and marry that Stark wench you kept sneaking out to meet for three years." he spat at his son. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Ramsay. You may be stealthy, but I know everything.”

Ramsay’s blood ran cold. His father knew—of course, he knew. Roose Bolton knew every secret, every move his son made. There was no hiding from him. But what Roose didn’t understand, what he couldn’t comprehend, was the depth of Ramsay’s obsession with Katrina. She was not just a means to an end, not just a stepping stone to power. She was his, in a way that went beyond any rational thought or ambition.

The bastard didn’t respond; He didn’t trust himself to speak. He left the chamber, his heart and mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. As he stepped into the cold corridors of the Dreadfort, his thoughts returned to Y/N, to her promise to return, to the way she had looked at him in the Wolfswood. He would make sure she kept that promise. She would be his, no matter the cost.

As he walked through the dimly lit halls, all the way outside of the Fort, and into the forest, his mind churned with plans and possibilities. The Red Wedding would be the first step, yes... His father's betrayal... But Y/N… She was his obsession, his desire, the one thing that mattered more than anything else. He would marry her, claim Winterfell, and make sure that she never left his side again m- All on his own accord, not the traditional way the old fucks want to force upon them. He needed her happy; He needed her to want him, to need him, to desire him the same way he wants, needs and desires her.

No one, not even his father, would stand in his way to get his little Kitten back in his arms.

Lost in his mind, the young bastard found himself by the running river - He always wanted to take Y/N here, his special spot to get away from the world. Once, she admitted to him that, although her personality is very much that of a wolf, she still find a good portion of her peace by the river-run, just like her Tully mother.

The icy wind blew through the trees along the riverbank, but Ramsay barely felt it. His dark mood had numbed him to the cold of the North. He stood by the rushing waters of the river, his fists clenched, chest heaving with barely suppressed rage.

He couldn't believe over a year had passed since his sweetling had been taken to King’s Landing, and in that time, Ramsay had fallen into a restless spiral. His hunts no longer thrilled him, and even the cruel games he played with his prisoners brought him no joy. No one could satisfy him anymore, and every woman he took to his bed only made the ache for Y/N grow worse. With an empty chuckle, he remembered the hurt in Myranda's eyes, and the protest she chirped, once he called her by Y/N's name instead of her own. Hilarious how either of them thought themselves important in his life. Dumb cunts, all of them.

He cursed under his breath, pacing along the riverbank, his thoughts tangled in frustration and agony. The image of her haunted him - Her eyes, her smile, the playful way she used to tease him. It wasn't just her beauty that lingered in his mind; it was the feeling she invoked in him. A need deeper than any he'd known before. She had marked him, claimed him, and he hated her for it, almost as much as he longed for her, needed her, just like he needed air to breathe.

His breath came in harsh gasps as he leaned against a tree, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. He slammed his fist against the bark, the roughness biting into his skin, but the pain brought him no relief. His mind kept returning to her, to the day she left, to her cries, her tears, her screams, to the promise she'd made, the way she'd looked back at him with those desperate, pleading eyes, almost as if she was begging him to kidnap her and tie her up in the dungeons, away from the harsh world that would hurt her... That would take her away from him.

"Where the hell are you?" he snarled, his voice echoing through the wind, as he continued punching at the tree, an unfortunate bad habit he got since childhood; Punching until his fist was a bloody mess... Punching until he didn't want to claw his own body out, as if he needed to escape this cage of flesh and sinew.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Ramsay caught movement; He tensed, instinctively reaching for the dagger at his side - Instead of danger, he saw the familiar forms of Meleys and Jade that approached him. The red wolf padded silently through the trees, her light coloured eyes gleaming with intelligence and caution, while the fox moved with graceful playfulness. Ramsay lowered his guard, watching as they approached him.

The wolf nuzzled his hand, the softness of her fur a stark contrast to his cold rage... Her red-coppery fur was as velvety soft as Y/N's hair, he remembered. His muscles relaxed, if only slightly, and he knelt down, letting his fingers run through Meleys' fur. Jade, ever loving, kept her green eyes fixed on him, before she yapped for his attention.

"You're missing her too, aren’t you?" Ramsay muttered, his voice softening for a moment. He scratched Meleys behind the ears, feeling the animal’s warmth against his skin. It was strange — He’d never cared for animals like Y/N did, but these two were different. Sure, he preferred the company of dogs over that of people, and for good reason...

When he looked Meleys in the eyes, she looked straight back at him; She climbed on his lap and gently licked at his face. He didn't stop her. He remembered those times when he'd meet Y/N, and she'd show him how she learnt to warg into Meleys, to see life through her, to control her... To live through her. He often wondered if Y/N was warged into Meleys, and she was trying to comfort him... To show him her love... To give him hope...

Jade, too, jumped on him, nudging her small wet truffle-snout against his palm, licking at his bloody wounds; Ramsay found some strange solace in their presence, though he would never admit it. Meleys and Jade missed her too — He could see it in the way they searched for her, the way they lingered near places where she used to be. They were as restless as he was, as hungry for her return.

"She promised." Ramsay whispered, more to himself than to the animals. "She swore she'd come back."

Meleys whimpered softly, nudging Ramsay's hand, as though offering comfort in her own way, then gently placed her head on his shoulder. Jade blinked up at him with her bright eyes, her tail flicking slightly. They were loyal creatures, just as Y/N had been loyal to him - That loyalty, that bond they all shared — It was the one thing he could cling to when the loneliness clawed at his insides.

"I will flay everyone who gets in her way." his hand gripped the hilt of his dagger, his jaw tightening with renewed resolve. Y/N would return to him. She had to. And when she did, he would never let her go again. Not to anyone. Not to anything. She was his, marked by him, claimed by him; He wore her mark, that haughty little kitten.

He sat there in the snow for a while longer, the quiet of the forest and the gentle presence of Meleys and Jade soothing his maddening thoughts. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Ramsay allowed himself to relax just a little; Though beneath his calm exterior, the storm still brewed.

"See, Sandor?!" Y/N desperately tried to shake him into agreeing with her plan; Though her lack of strength managed to move him not even by a fraction of an inch. "You must help me! Please - You must!"

"You're just as fucked in the head as he is, little fox." the Hound barked a sarcastic laugh. "What of the little bird?"

Y/N hesitated, looking down. "She..." Y/N gulped, her voice wavering. "The Lannisters have her in their clutches. She won't listen to me... Not anymore. She's forgotten herself, who she is... Since father died." she bit her lip painfully hard. "I cannot save her anymore, Sandor; And I can save our family even less if I am trapped here, in this hell." she looked up into his eyes, strength and determination surprising even him "I trust only you with her safety. Whatever happens of that... A wolf must always return to the North. I hope, one day, you will escape also - And bring her with you to our home." she continued in a more tender home. "You will always be welcomed in the North, Sandor."

"You've lost your mind, girl. I am welcomed nowhere - Especially not given my reputation." he rolled his eyes, pushing her away from him. "Fine. I'll take care of the little song bird - But don't expect me to die for her. That damned lousy cunt who calls himself the King is unpredictable, and I am still just a dog."

"A loyal dog who's earned the trust of the Queen In The North."

The night of the wildfire siege at Blackwater Bay was a chaos of screams and roaring flames that lit the sky with an eerie green glow. The city was in disarray, and amidst the flames, the terrified Sandor Clegane dragged the two Stark sisters out of their rooms and fled the blasted Crown city for good, never to look back or miss the damned stench.

At first, they didn't know where to go, except North - Always into the North - Yet during one silent camping stop where their fear calmed down the littlest bit, they agreed on a temporary strategy - Reunite with the Young Wolf who was currently hosted at the Twins.

Unfortunately the reunion was bitter, and that night they didn't meet Robb Stark nor Catelyn Stark or Grey Wind... They met death staring right at them. Sansa fell into the Hound's arms, sobbing, wailing, almost waiting at the grotesque sight... Almost as bad as seeing her father beheaded... Y/N remained silent, her mind all but blank and filled with rage and revenge. What once was her proud brother, the beautiful Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell, the King in the North... Was now reduced to a headless corpse mounted on a horse... With his precious Grey Wind's head sewn on his shoulders. No doubt, their mother also met a similarly humiliating and grotesque fate.

"Y/N. I found your rat runt of a sister." Sandor spoke, out of nowhere, holding Arya by the back of her shirt as she was trying to escape his grasp and run head-first into the Bolton and Frey army to kill them all.

"Let me go! Now! I'll kill you, you stupid mutt! Y/N, tell him!" the little sister tried to struggle, but it was Sansa who slapped her face.

"Arya, can't you see?! Robb is dead! Mother is dead! If you go there, we will lose you too! Stop being a brat for once, and listen to us!" poor Sansa's heartbroken cries made even the wild little sister stare at her with wide eyes, and teared up too.

"They... They killed them... Slaughtered... Like livestock... Why..." came her little, trembling voice. "It's not fair..."

"Life ain't fair, girl." the dog grunted under his breath, taking them away from there. They suffered enough, no need to see the enemy making a mockery of their beloved family anymore.

"The North remembers... And we will have their skins..." though Arya was emboldened by that fearsome threat, Sansa shuddered a little at her cold, hars voice. It was only Sandor who noticed the malice and vendetta behind her words... And the ally hidden in the North, ready to flay anyone alive. What a deranged bastard. Gulping away her sorrow, Y/N finally found the words and strength to speak. "Let's go to aunt Lysa for now, and we'll see what we do from there."

The road to the Eyrie was filled with danger, but Sandor, Arya and Y/N knew how to fight away the assailants; They pushed forward relentlessly, despite their exhaustion and heartbreak. The girls needed a place to recover — Somewhere far from the reach of the Lannisters and the Freys. The only safe place they had left.

The eerie mountain fortress became their temporary sanctuary, though they knew they couldn't stay forever. Surprisingly even to himself, Sandor guarded over the Stark girls with the fierce loyalty of a dog - Though not for long. The girls had to divide and conquer, to make a plan and gain enough support and a proper army to regain what was lost through the Red Wedding, and the loss of Robb and Catelyn Stark.

Sansa, ever the diplomat, remained at the Eyrie to deal with aunt Lysa and young Robert; Arya had escaped into the night, ready to take on the unknown and learn how to properly fight and fend for herself, a little girl against the endless world; Y/N was going to reclaim their home and name herself the heir and Lady of Winterfell - Bran and Rickon were far too little to lead, even with the Maesters aiding them. Maester Luwin might have been as intelligent and loving as their second father, but even he couldn't rule the way a true Stark would.

Leaving Sansa in the care of Sandor, Y/N began her lonely ride northward. She hadn’t heard of what had befallen Winterfell — Only whispers of its burning and rumors of her brothers’ deaths. Her heart told her it was lies, but her mind feared the worst.

The North was desolate, colder than she remembered, and the haunting loneliness echoed in every step she took toward her home. Winterfell had once been a place of safety, but now, the foreboding silence filled her with dread.

When she finally arrived at Winterfell, the place she called home was but a shell of what it had been. The castle stood lonely and bleak, with the Greyjoy banner flapping mockingly above the walls. Panic surged through her veins as she noticed two small bodies, covered in tar, burnt and hanged above the gate as display for all to see. They couldn't be... No way those were Bran and Rickon... Theon Greyjoy would never...

She stormed inside, desperately searching for answers, only to be greeted by the sight of Theon, standing in her father’s hall, playing at being Lord of Winterfell.

Fury like she had never known surged through her - Theon had betrayed them, his only family that accepted him after is own father renounced him in favour of his sister, Asha, who was a far better leader than he would ever be.

Her anger overwhelmed her to the point of irrationality; The words were ripping from her throat with all the venom she could muster. Theon was no longer the boy she once knew. He was brittle, broken, and deluded with false power. The arrogant power-trip that the weak get once given the chance to hold a fickle grain of power.

"You... You pathetic, loathsome, disgusting, arrogant little cockroach!" the voice of a Stark roared loudly through the castle walls, calling forth all of its original inhabitants - They all marveled in joy and horror at seeing Lady Stark return home. "Theon Greyjoy, who in the Seven Hells do you think you are?!" she lunged at him, wrestling him to the ground in his state of confusion and panic.

"You—!" her voice was a guttural snarl, thick with disbelief and outrage. "You traitorous bastard!" she screamed as her fists slammed into him, each strike landing with the weight of her anger and heartbreak. The hall fell into shocked silence, with the few guards present too stunned to react immediately - Though none of them had any respect for the poor excuse of a Kraken playing the leader role. "How dare you sit there! That seat belongs to my father! My family! You are nothing!"

Theon, momentarily caught off guard, could only try to shield himself from the onslaught; Y/N’s blows came hard and fast, her nails scratching at his face and her fists thudding against his chest. For a brief moment, she was relentless, every ounce of betrayal and rage from months of being away from her home, from seeing her family butchered, pouring out of her.

Theon groaned in pain and surprise as she clawed at him, her anger consuming every fiber of her being. “Stop—!” he tried to shout over her furious attacks, but his voice was drowned out by her curses - Just like his useless God.

"How could you?!" she cried, voice cracking with the raw emotion of betrayal. "After everything we've done for you! After we treated you like one of us! You were my brother, Theon! And now this?! You betray your best friend who trusted you above all else, take over my home, declare yourself the Lord and even kill my brothers!" her fists slammed into him again, the intensity of her emotions seeping into every word. "You disgust me! You, vile, evil, pathetic worm!"

The old citizens of Winterfell, those who had remained loyal to the Starks, rushed forward in an attempt to hold her back. A few guards hesitated at first, unsure whether or not to protect Theon from the girl’s wrath or to stand aside. One of the older men, who had known Y/N since she was a child, wrapped his arms around her from behind, gently restraining her despite her thrashing.

"Lady Y/N, please!" the man pleaded, his voice filled with sorrow. "You'll only get yourself hurt - Your precious hands should not be damaged against a lowly peasant such as him." truly, no one feared him, nor respected him. He was a wretch everywhere he went. Even his own family was praying for him never to return.

Y/N was panting, her wild eyes still fixed on Theon, who now stood from the ground, wiping at his bleeding face, his eyes a mix of embarrassment and growing rage. Her chest heaved as she struggled against the arms holding her back, her voice hoarse with the weight of everything she had bottled up for too long, a dark, malicious murder intent growing ever stronger.

"You don't belong here!" she spat, trying to wrench herself free. "This is my home!"

Theon’s pride, wounded by both her words and her successful attack, twisted his expression into something unknown. His initial shock and shame from being attacked by a woman was quickly replaced by a cruel sneer, the only way he knew to hide the guilt and shame gnawing at his insides.

“Shut up, you worthless mewling quim!” he snapped, straightening himself and brushing off his tunic as though her blows were nothing but an inconvenience. “The past doesn't matter. Winterfell is mine - The House of Theon Greyjoy, Lord of Winterfell, Warden in the North." unexpectedly, Y/N managed to land another harsh slap against his gaunt face, then spat him in the eyes.

"You may call yourself whatever you wish, but you will never earn the respect or aid of anyone! You’re nothing but a coward playing at being king in a castle that’s not yours! Do you really think this charade will last? You think you can be anything more than the Greyjoy runt, pathetic and spineless?!” she screeched at him even as he dug his hand into her hair and tugged harshly at it. "You don't know what happens to traitors, do you, Theon? Everyone hates a traitor."

Theon’s face flushed red as Y/N's words pierced through the thin veil of arrogance he had built around himself. For a moment, he wavered, the reality of the situation crashing into him - But his desperation to hold on to his fleeting power won out, and he grabbed her from the man's arms, slapping her face hard with his gloved hand; She simply grinned with defiance - No once could hit harder than Meryn Trant and his metal gauntlet. "You even hit like a cunt, Theon. You could never best me at anything."

Theon looked around at the gathered faces—faces of the people he had known for years, people who had served the Starks faithfully. They were not looking at him with fear or respect, but with contempt and disgust. His eyes flickered back to Y/N, who was still breathing heavily, her eyes filled with loathing and burning rage. Something shifted in him. For a moment, guilt seemed to seep into his features, but he masked it quickly with a cold glare.

“Lock her in her room.” he ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand, his voice trembling slightly. “I will teach some proper discipline into her later - And you will learn to scream my name from the top of your lungs - Lord Theon Greyjoy."

The old man holding Katrina hesitated, clearly torn between his loyalty to her and his fear of what Theon might do if defied. Y/N, however, stopped struggling, her fury replaced by a dangerous calm. "You don't have a big enough cock to fuck me, nor the balls to dare even approach me. That's why you could only get women through coin - You are everyone's laughing-stock, and that's what you will remain forever." she said, her voice low but venomous. “And mark my words — You will regret ever stepping foot in this castle.”

Theon flinched slightly at the threat, but he quickly turned away, trying to maintain an air of control as Y/N was swiftly led away by the remaining Stark loyalists who were afraid to see their Lady get in even more trouble. His grip on power was tenuous at best, and deep down, he knew it. Anarchy was approaching.

Y/N’s parting words echoed in his mind, and for a brief moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. He had lost his only true family in the Starks, and now even Y/N, the girl who had treated him like a brother for years, despised him, and rightfully so. Despite his stolen throne, Theon felt more alone than ever before.

She was supposed to become a prisoner in her own bedroom chambers, but Y/N Stark was no prisoner — At least, not for long. That night, before Theon could instill his faux sense of discipline and power on her, she escaped through the old tunnels she had explored as a child, her heart set on freedom and revenge. She fled back into the Wolfswood, where the wolves of her ancestors watched over her and awaited the Stark she-wolf to reclaim her home. Yes, the initial plan failed, but there was one last thing she could do -

Return to Ramsay Snow and get the Bolton army on her side.

Once she reached the forest edge close to the Dreadfort, Y/N dismounted and stumbled through the underbrush of the Wolfswood, her clothes torn and her face streaked with tears and dirt. Once she saw the fort in her sight, she took a deep breath and let out a long, haunting howl, the sound echoing through the trees like a wolf’s cry — A cry of both pain and a call for her true brethren to reunite as one once more.

She felt her voice tearing at her throat as she called out into the cold, sharp air. Her fury was boundless. It was the Boltons who had betrayed her family's trust, Roose Bolton who teamed up with Tywin Lannister and orchestrated the Red Wedding, the massacre that took her mother and her brother from her. He was going to pay for betraying her trust. They all will. She will have their skins.

Before long, the silence of the woods was broken. Meleys, her loyal Red Queen, sprinted through the undergrowth, her frozen eyes gleaming in the low light. Behind her, padding quietly, came Jade, her beloved fokin - But it was not just her darling animal-sisters who emerged from the darkness.

As she expected, Ramsay followed shortly after, his black hair wild and messy, his expression one of uncharacteristic joy at the sight of her. For a moment, a flicker of something softer passed through his icy blue eyes, a twinkle of hope. She had come back to him, the only living being he had ever truly wanted - She returned to him, just as she promised.

Y/N’s greeting was, however, far from warm and heartfelt; She snarled at him, her hand instinctively going for her bow. In one swift motion, she nocked an arrow and aimed it at his chest. “Y/N…” Ramsay began, his voice low, almost tender. "You've come back to—"

"Stop right there, you traitorous bastard!" she growled, her voice dripping with venom. She didn't care about the small smile that briefly flashed on his face, or the way his hands slowly rose as if in surrender. She loosed a warning arrow, purposefully missing him by inches, letting it thud dangerously into the trunk of a nearby tree. “Don’t you dare say my name!” she screamed, her voice shaking. Another arrow flew, this one even closer to him, landing in the snow at his feet. “You... you monster! How could you let this happen? How could you betray us? How could you betray me?”

Ramsay's smile faded, replaced by a look of confusion, then anger. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t step forward. Not yet. How dare she accuse him?! And of what, he didn't even know - How dare she?! How DARE she?!

"Betray you?" Ramsay's voice was bubbling and sneering but laced with an undercurrent of fury. He finally realised - It was all about his father's betrayal of the Stark family. Of course. Of - fucking - course. He knew his father was going to ruin everything he ever did in his life - That blasted worm... "You think I had something to do with that?!”

"You’re a Bolton!" Katrina shouted, another arrow notched and ready. “Your father slaughtered my family! My mother, my brother! They were all butchered! Tortured! And for what? For Theon fucking Greyjoy to burn my little brothers alive and take Winterfell for himself?” her voice cracked, and tears welled up in her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. "You knew! You had to have known!"

“I didn’t!” Ramsay spat, his voice growing desperate as her accusations cut into him. “I had nothing to do with it!” his tone was raising with every bit of defense he had to shout to be heard.

"LIAR!" Y/N screamed, and her voice broke as the tears finally spilled down her cheeks. “You’re no different than him! You’re just like your father, Ramsay! You’re—”

In that moment, Ramsay snapped, something inside him, probably his sanity, shattered. The frustration, the rage, the desperation to make her understand, to stop her from hating him - They all boiled over. With a savage growl, he moved faster than she could react, lunging forward and knocking the bow from her hands.

He slammed her back against a nearby tree, his hands gripping her shoulders with a bruising force; She gasped, her breath coming in ragged pants as she stared up at him, wide-eyed like a fawn and trembling, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

“Shut up!” Ramsay growled through gritted teeth, his face inches from hers. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t get to blame me for what he did!” he snarled at her like a rabid beast.

Y/N’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, she was silenced — Bot by fear, but by the intensity of Ramsay’s gaze on her. It burned into her, wild, petrifying and unhinged, filled with emotions she couldn’t quite decipher. Her tears streamed down her face in endless waterfalls, and she tried to shove him away, but he only pressed her harder against the tree, their bodies closer than ever before.

“I have nothing to do with that.” Ramsay snarled, his breath hot against her face. “Nothing - Yet you… You came back, just to accuse me like this?”

She opened her mouth to protest, to explain herself, but before she could speak, Ramsay’s lips crashed against hers in a violent, desperate kiss. Her entire body tensed, shocked by the suddenness of it, by the raw hunger in the way his mouth moved against hers. She tried pushing against him, her mind going crazy, but Ramsay was relentless, strong, and his hands were gripping her tighter as if he was trying to claim her once again, to force her back into submission.

For a moment, her mind blanked, overwhelmed by the intensity of the kiss, her very first kiss; The way his lips devoured hers with a desperation she had never seen in him before. When she finally managed to shove him off, they both stood there, breathing heavily, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

“What…” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “What did you—”

Ramsay’s eyes softened for just a moment. “I didn't betray you.” he said, his voice quieter now, like a threatening low whisper. “Don't ever do that to me ever again. Not even the Old Gods could stop me from tearing you apart if you accuse me of such horse shite ever again. You hear me?!"

She glared at him through her tears, still uncertain, still struggling with the whirlwind of emotions tearing her apart. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that Ramsay wasn’t involved in the betrayal of her family, but the bitterness of grief and the sting of betrayal ran deep.

“I will kill him.” Ramsay promised, his voice turning dark again as he took a step closer, his hands still resting on her shoulders. “Once he legitimises me, I will kill him. He deserves it for everything he did to me - To us." he hissed softly, his lips almost touching her again. "I will flay him alive for you."

Y/N looked up at him, her expression torn. She was still angry, still grieving, but the conviction in his voice made her pause; She believed him. “I heard what that worthless cockroach did to your home.” Ramsay continued, his voice dripping with venom. “I will gift you Winterfell back, and Theon Greyjoy's skin made into a flag."

Y/N’s lips trembled, her heart torn between hatred and hope. She stared up at Ramsay, her thoughts swirling. She had seen so much darkness, so much death - And yet, through all the horrors of the world, Ramsay Snow remained the only person she fully trusted... The one person who might be twisted and screwed in the head enough to give her the vengeance she craved.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them heavy with tension. Finally, she nodded, her voice a soft, broken whisper. “Bring me Winterfell… And bring me Theon Greyjoy. Alive, but not for long.”

Ramsay’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he leaned down, his forehead brushing against hers. “It’s yours.” he whispered. “All of it.” his lips trailed down to her ear, whispering sultry. "All of me."

For the first time in a long time in may painful years, Y/N felt a gleaming of something resembling hope — Dark, twisted, insane hope, but hope nonetheless. They would take Winterfell back, and they would make sure that every betrayal was paid for in blood - That's what he promised her; She kept her promise to him, and it was time for him to reciprocate.

Winterfell will be reclaimed by the shocking wit of the bastard of the Dreadfort - Truly, not only did Y/N never imagine he would be so witty, but also such a fantastic actor; He would play the role of a half-wit peasant called Reek, bring her to Theon as a prize, and gain his trust - Trust which will be oh-so-satisfyingly shattered once Reek betrays him and becomes Ramsay once more... And he will learn his place, that pesky little filth.

The frigid winds howled through the corridors of Winterfell, but within the walls, tension simmered hotter than any hearth. The once-proud castle of Winterfell was shadowed by the Kraken banners of House Greyjoy, their sigil hanging where the direwolf of Stark once stood tall and proud for generations.

Ramsay had donned the rags of a peasant, dirtying himself with soot and mud until he was nothing more than a shadow of the handsome yet brutal man he truly was.

He became "Reek", it rhymes with "Meek", it rhymes with "Leek", it rhymes with "Weak" - a pathetic and broken figure, eager to please and loyal only to Lord Theon Greyjoy. Y/N, playing along, allowed herself to be dragged in as his prisoner, bound and silent, though her eyes burned with cold fury and thirst for a torturous revenge.

Theon, still drunk on his fleeting power-trip, was easily fooled by their flawless charade; He sneered at Y/N, mocked her, and paraded her around like a trophy in front of her people. "Lookie here, Lady Stark came back home!" he struck her face so hard she fell to the ground. Each word, each cruel jest, was like a knife twisted in Y/N’s heart repeatedly, and added salt and cyanide - But she held herself together, knowing that it was only temporary.

She could feel the storming wrath in Ramsay's eyes - The humiliation won't last long, before he snaps and goes berserk. Theon had fallen too far to see the trap being laid for him. Even as he and "Reek" bonded over Y/N’s torment, the bastard’s true self remained hidden, seething beneath the surface, watching and waiting impatiently to destroy this worthless cunt who thinks himself a King.

One of Greyjoy's favourite ways of tormenting the she-wolf was to degrade her in front of his Ironborn; He'd force her to kneel before him, his foot on her shoulder, and would belittle her. "You like kneeling for men, don't you, Y/N? Is that what you did in King's Landing? Whore yourself for any man who gave you attention?" he laughed mockingly at her, looking at Reek for validation, to see if his joke was funny. "The proud Lady Stark, sucking cock like a greedy slut!" he wanted to go further, to take out his dick and dangle it in her face - But something in him couldn't go that far; Was it their previous sibling bond, or the fact that he practically froze under the harsh blizzard-like glare of her eyes - He kicked her to the ground, having his people drag her back to her room, before he took Reek away from there.

Reek kept his eyes downcast and his hands clenched into fists whenever Theon mistreated his sweet little thorny rose. He would swallow down his rage, pretending to be the loyal, cowardly "Reek" who would never dare to defy his master. His nails would dig into his palms until they drew blood, the pain a reminder to keep his cover intact, no matter how badly he wanted to rip Theon apart with his bare hands. He will pay with his skin, and not only. The more he saw Theon mistreating his darling, the more he wanted to make him feel eternal pain. He will lose his cock, his finger nails, toe nails, and more...

He would shove her around, slap her, hit her, insult her and more; So many threats of him fucking a bastard into her womb, and that he will beat her pregnant belly until she loses the babe; Each word he addressed her way became a new way of Ramsay to torture him.

But one night he went to far... Too far, even for Ramsay to accept. Theon had dragged him into Lady Stark's chambers; He buried his hand into her hair, throwing her onto the bed, his hands gripping at her slender body. "Don't you fucking dare..." came a low, guttural rumble, a threat, a warning... But the Kraken was deaf and blind; He ripped the bodice of her dress and with a weirdly strong grip, he tried to spread her legs apart for him to get to her honeyed core. "I will tear you apart, Theon Greyjoy."

"Shut up, you greedy little whore, I know you're desperate for me... You've always looked at me, since we were little..." with a strike to her face, he slumped over her body, rendering her unable to struggle away. "Don't play coy with me - I know you're not pure anymore - You cannot be."

"Listen to me, Theon Greyjoy - I am not yours to claim." she smirked with wicked defiance; She knew her wait was over, and she could rise up and riot. "The only man allowed to claim me is Ramsay Bolton."

"Then I'll make sure to tell him how tight your cunt is." his hand was fumbling with his breeches, ready to take his cock out and fulfill his promise, until...

"I'd like to see you try." Theon was fell limp over Y/N's body, knocked unconscious by an iron poker struck onto his head. "You don't get to touch her - Filth." THE Theon Greyjoy crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, his body lifeless except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, as Ramsay had to restrain himself to jump on him and punch him to death - He deserved far, far worse for even daring to touch his precious Kitten's skin... Let alone think he can CLAIM her.

"Took you long enough." Y/N found herself panting for air, regaining her senses.

"Be glad I'm not claiming you right now." he was trembling with anger as he hissed under his breath.

"You can claim me in front of him." her bold, teasing voice made him snap at her, his eyes wide, tormented. "Down in the dungeons, when you've had your way torturing him... After you cut that useless prick off... Tormented him..."

"Shut up." he growled at her. "Get your people back, raise your flag - Just get away from me." his warning made a shiver go down her spine, and she scurried away from her chambers. She'd never seen Ramsay so pissed that he couldn't control himself even around her. She will let him have his fun for a while, let him cool down on his own, before she returns to check on him.

She moved to the court where the few remaining people of Winterfell— Those who had not yet been driven away or killed — Waited in tense silence. They had seen the Starks fall, seen the banners torn down and replaced with the Kraken of the Ironborn. But now, standing before them, was their last glimmer of hope — The rightful heir to Winterfell. The Queen in the North.

Y/N looked out at the faces of her people, her voice ringing out clear and strong, despite the bruise forming on her cheek. “Theon Greyjoy is no more. Winterfell is our home once more!" there was no mistaking the fierce determination that burned within her - The Scarlet She-Wolf of the Stark House. Once she cupped her hands to her mouth, she let out a loud howl, haunting, booming, alert; Meleys joined in, and from the forest, many more were heard.

The Stark Wolves howled under the Northern Moon once again.

After the bastard finished tying up the naked, unconscious Theon Greyjoy on a wooden X-cross in the dungeons, he went out, watching his Kitten's loud meowing from the shadows, and he held a satisfied smirk on his face. That was his girl, he thought to herself, feeling power brewing in his chest as the people cheered loudly on her - Queen in the North, Lady Y/N Stark - With all the strength and fury of the North.

He slipped away, heading toward the gates where his own forces waited in the cover of night. He signaled them, and like a tidal wave, the Bastard's Boys stormed the premises, decimating any Ironborn still alive. Of course, Y/N wasn't happy to see foreign armies in her home - Alas, she had to accept it for a while.

Back in the dungeons, Theon awoke to the cold, damp darkness, his head throbbing and his wrists bound tightly with burning ropes. He could hear the distant sounds of battle above, the faint screams of his men as they were cut down one by one. Panic surged through him, but before he could cry out, the door to his cell creaked open, and Ramsay stepped inside, carrying the Greyjoy flag in his hands.

With a cruel grin, Ramsay unfolded the Kraken banner before Theon’s wide, terrified eyes. “You’ve made quite a mess of this place, haven’t you, Theon?” Ramsay drawled, his voice mocking. “But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to clean it up.”

With a twisted grin, Ramsay unceremoniously pissed on the Greyjoy flag, defiling it just as Theon had defiled Winterfell. The stench filled the air, and Theon recoiled in horror, but Ramsay only laughed — A dark, mirthless sound that echoed through the dungeon like a death knell.

Ramsay approached him slowly, his leather gloves creaking as he flexed his fingers. His expression was calm, almost serene, but the fire in his pale blue eyes told a different story. He was eager, too eager to start, but he reined himself in, savoring the anticipation. He wanted to make Theon fully aware of what was coming before he even laid a hand on him.

"Reek?! What - How did I get here?! Go on, get me out of here! What are you waiting for?!" but Theon was horrified to see the empty grin of Reek growing ever wider... Twisted, cruel, malicious. "Reek...?! I order you, as Lord Theon Greyjoy, to get me the hell out of here!"

"Y/N was right, you are as stupid as it gets." the bastard scoffed. "I am not 'Reek' - You are! You are Reek." he got close to his face. "And I - I am Ramsay Bolton." Theon's eyes widened with shock and horror, realising he tried to rape this psychopath's woman in front of him; He threatened and tormented her - In front of him.

“You thought you could have her...” Ramsay said, his voice soft, almost conversational, as he circled Theon like a wolf preparing to strike. “Y/N - MY Y/N." he hummed softly. "The Red She-Wolf Queen in the North, Y/N Stark, The Lady of Winterfell... Otherwise known as my precious little Kitten.” He smiled darkly as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against Theon's ear. “You thought you could take what’s mine?”

Theon’s eyes widened with terror, but he couldn’t respond with words that weren't protests or pleas. in his mouth. “Please… Ramsay…” Theon stammered, his voice trembling with fear. “I didn’t mean—”

“Shhh…” Ramsay placed a gloved finger to Theon’s lips, cutting him off. “I’m not interested in your excuses, Greyjoy. I’m interested in watching you suffer.”

Without another word, Ramsay picked up a small, sharp blade from his table of tools. He held it up for Theon to see, letting the dim light from the torches glint off the steel. He then moved toward Theon's hand, grabbing it roughly. Ramsay pressed the blade to Theon's fingers, drawing shallow cuts along the tips—just enough to sting, just enough to let Theon feel the sharpness of the pain before the real suffering began.

He gasped and grunted, squirming, trying to pull his hand away, but Ramsay held him firm, his grip painful and firm. “This is only the foreplay.” Ramsay whispered, his voice dark and dangerous. “You’ll feel every inch of what I’m about to do to you - And I’ll enjoy every second.”

The bastard had chosen a small patch of skin on Theon's chest located where he knew the pain would radiate and linger. He peeled back the flesh slowly, deliberately, relishing in the sight of Theon's blood as it oozed from the wound, along with his screams; His body was convulsing with excruciating agony, but Ramsay remained unfazed - In fact, his nether regions grow hot with desire and lust; He always got aroused when torturing people. His hands worked expertly, and every cry from Theon only seemed to spur him on.

“You should have known better - You have only yourself to blame, Reek.” Ramsay said with an almost casual tone as he continued his work. “You think you’re a lord, you think you’re in control, but you’re not. You never were. Y/N could never belong to a filthy wretch like you. You’re nothing. Nothing but an urchin pretending to be a lord.”

As Theon’s screams grew louder, Ramsay only leaned in closer, whispering in his ear. “This is what happens when you try to steal what belongs to me.”

Once Ramsay was satisfied with the patch of flayed skin, he moved on to Theon’s fingers again, this time bending them back slowly until he heard the satisfying crack of bones breaking. Theon’s howls echoed through the dungeon - Utterly powerless, utterly broken.

“What’s wrong, Reek?” Ramsay mocked, his voice dripping with amusement. “These fingers tried to touch my woman. I either remove them, or kill you, you see? You have to get purified if you want to remain alive."

Theon, shaking from both pain and terror, could only whimper in response - He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to continue living or not, the pain was unbearable. His body was drenched in sweat, his skin pale, and his breath came in ragged gasps, and Ramsay wasn’t done. He wanted more. He needed to hear Theon beg, to hear him plead for the mercy that would never come.

Ramsay brought out a thin iron rod, heated in the fire until it glowed red-hot. He held it up, letting Theon see it, letting him anticipate the pain to come. “It's getting rather cold in here, don't you think? And you're all naked... Let me heat you up a little!” Ramsay exclaimed with a wicked grin.

“Please… Please, no more!” Theon sobbed, his voice barely audible through the tears. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Ramsay’s grin only widened as he pressed the hot iron against Theon’s thigh. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as Theon screamed louder than ever, his entire body shaking with agony. Ramsay watched with dark satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with twisted delight as Theon writhed in pain beneath him.

But then... The bastard went on to remove that worthless little prick of his... And Theon Greyjoy lost consciousness from the agony.

With Winterfell reclaimed once more, Roose Bolton had reason to celebrate, and so did the Crown, who not only appointed him Warden of the North; but offered his bastard son the legitimisation every bastard dreamt of; Ramsay Snow was no more - Ramsay Bolton finally took over - And Roose was going to make a special trip to tell him just that.

The grand hall of Winterfell had been transformed for the feast. Lord Bolton, as imposing as ever, entered, met with a display of power and wealth. Y/N had spared no expense in preparing a lavish meal - His last meal. The long table was covered with roasted meats, warm bread, and jugs of dark wine. The hall glowed with the light of torches and hearths, and a low hum of music filled the air.

Ramsay stood at the head of the table, his face a mask of restraint, as his father entered. Katrina was seated beside him, regal and defiant, her eyes never leaving Roose's cold figure.

Roose barely acknowledged her at first, his eyes fixed on Ramsay. "You've done well, Ramsay." Roose remarked, his tone devoid of warmth as he took his seat. "Winterfell is yours. You’ve managed not to disgrace the name I gave you, for once." as harsh as ever. "Now, you are truly Ramsay Bolton." with that, he threw the letter at his son.

That letter had arrived from King's Landing just that day - Ramsay Snow truly was no more. He had been legitimized by the King's royal decree. He was now Ramsay Bolton, the only living true son of Lord Bolton, no longer the Bastard of Bolton. This was everything Ramsay had ever desired — Power, status, and legitimacy.

This was it - He had the Dreadfort, he had the Bolton name, and he had Y/N. He had everything he ever wanted in his grasp.

It was time to take one step further; He will be the son of Lord Bolton no more - He will be Lord Bolton.

Ramsay smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, father.”

But as the feast began, Roose turned his attention to Katrina, eyeing her in a manner that made Ramsay’s blood boil. The cold Lord of the Dreadfort spoke of her as though she were little more than a breeding sow, not even present in the room.

“She’s a Stark.” Roose said dismissively between bites of food. “Strong bloodline - But don’t let her think she has power of Winterfell, Ramsay - She’s just a woman after all. Her worth is in her womb, in the heirs she can give you. Many heirs... Strong boys to continue our line.”

Y/N’s face twisted with fury at the crude comment, and Ramsay’s fist clenched beneath the table. He had never been a man to hide his anger well, but for a moment, he restrained himself. His eyes flickered toward his sweetling, and he could see her seething. Roose's words had wounded her pride, and that was something Ramsay would never allow. He spoke ill of her far too many times - But he will speak no more.

After a few more tense exchanges that he hadn't even heard, Ramsay stood and moved toward his father, his expression darkening. “You’ve always been so wise, father.” Ramsay said in a soft voice, though the undercurrent of malice was undeniable. “And I have always sought your approval.”

Roose raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious of the sudden shift in his son's demeanor, but before he could react, Ramsay pulled him into an embrace, feigning affection. "But I’m afraid it’s time for you to step aside." Ramsay whispered into his father's ear. "I am Lord Bolton now."

In one swift motion, Ramsay plunged a dagger deep into Roose’s gut. The older man gasped in shock and the sharp pain of the twist, eyes wide with disbelief. He tried to pull away, but Ramsay held him close, continuing to twist the blade cruelly, to make him feel the same pain he always did. The hall fell into stunned silence as the Lord of the Dreadfort staggered backward, blood pouring from the wound.

“Goodbye, father.” Ramsay sneered as Roose collapsed to the ground, his hands desperately clutching at the bleeding wound. Ramsay’s eyes shifted to Meleys, the red wolf that had been protectively waiting at Y/N’s side. “Meleys.” he called, his voice cold as winter’s night. The wolf moved with deadly grace, approaching Roose with glowing, hungry eyes. With one swift leap, Meleys tore into Roose's already weakened form, ripping flesh from bone as blood pooled on the stone floor, her red fur mingling with his red blood.

Y/N watched the scene unfold with a dark satisfaction in her eyes, not even realising she was grinning. There was no remorse, no sorrow— Only cold justice and triumph. She had grown ruthless, just as life had molded her to be. And now, her tormentor was dead. She felt no pity for Roose Bolton. He had betrayed her family, destroyed everything she once held dear. His death was a small payment for the suffering he had caused.

As the last breath escaped Roose’s lips, Y/N turned to Ramsay. “He deserved worse.” she said softly.

Ramsay smiled. “I thought so too, but I wanted to give you a special gift."

Katrina’s lips curved into a small, bitter smile. “Truth is - While I was in King’s Landing, I took a potion - Something to ensure I would never bear children. I almost died, and the pain was excruciating, but it paid off. As a prisoner, I couldn’t allow anyone to use me for my bloodline - As their political pawn and breeding-stock." she let out an empty chuckle. "I never wanted heirs anyway - And neither did you."

Ramsay stared at her for a moment, processing the words. Slowly, his smile returned, but this time it was something different — Almost relieved. “You clever, clever kitten.” he murmured, stroking her cheek, painting her skin with the blood of his father. “No babes, no risk of you dying in childbirth, no squalling brats to annoy me. You’ve just made everything so much easier for the both of us.” he grinned all sultry and enticing. "I never could resist you."

Katrina chuckled softly, leaning into his touch. “I am yours, Ramsay. Yours and yours alone. No one will ever take that from you.”

Ramsay’s hand trailed down to her throat, his thumb brushing over her pulse. “Good.” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “Because I’ve never wanted to share you with anyone.”

Katrina looked into his eyes, seeing the madness, the obsession, but also the devotion that lurked beneath. She knew she had tamed the beast within him, at least enough to keep him by her side. Ramsay had given her everything — Her home, her revenge, and even himself — And in return, she had given him herself, Always and Forever.

"I've got something to show you." the man dragged her back into her chamber, and showed her the beautiful Stark flag gently swaying with the wind. "Perfect view." he stood behind her, his arms around her waist holding her in a tight embrace, his chin resting on her shoulder. "How do you feel being back home, Lady Stark?" the closeness was intoxicating him, suffocating him - And he was craving more.

"Perfect, now that you're here with me." her innocently genuine comment made the man instinctively tighten his grip on her; He wanted desperately to get lost in her heat.

She could feel his heat against her back, the possessiveness in the way his hands lingered at her hips. There was a tension in his touch, a dark hunger that sent a shiver down her spine. But she wasn’t afraid - She never was afraid of him. Instead, there was something else building inside her, something that had been growing for some time now. She was craving his touch more than she needed air to breathe.

Y/N turned slowly to face him, her eyes locking with his. There was a storm in those gorgeous icy blue eyes of his, one that both excited and thrilled her. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, the tension between them palpable, suffocating.

"Ramsay." she spoke in a tender whisper, filled with curiosity and desire. "What do boys and girls do together when they grow up?"

His breath hitched as he remembered the many times he had teased her about that when they were younger; He loved toying with her innocence. The way Ramsay looked at her, the way his fingers brushed along her waist, set her heart racing in a way she didn’t fully understand.

"Show me." she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation and need.

Ramsay’s smirk widened, and without warning, he pushed her back against the bed, his hands gripping her waist firmly. His touch was rough, possessive, and it sent a wave of heat coursing through her veins. His lips hovered inches from hers, teasing, taunting, as he held her there, trapped between him and the comfortable bed underneath her.

"You want it, don’t you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "My sweet, greedy kitten… You’ve wanted this all along... You've been craving my touch for so long..."

Y/N’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as his words sent a flush of heat and arousal through her body. She didn't know what he was doing to her, but she wanted this... The way his mere words stirred her insides... She was nervous and excited to see what else she could feel... With his breath warm against her lips, and his body pressed against hers.

"Yes." she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her pride crumbling beneath the weight of her desire for him

"Have you been touching yourself, thinking of me, sweetling?" Ramsay’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and he leaned in closer, his lips brushing hers in the lightest of kisses before pulling back again, teasing her mercilessly. "So greedy." he murmured, his voice full of dark amusement, watching that precious blush of hers. "I’ve barely touched you, and already you’re begging for more."

She let out a soft whimper of frustration, her hands gripping his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer, but he held her firmly in place, refusing to give in just yet. His lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and she could feel the heat pooling in her belly, the need for him growing stronger with every passing second. "Ramsay..." she whined out his name, her voice thick with need. "Stop teasing me... You're so cruel..."

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "But where’s the fun in that, my little naughty kitty-cat?" his hands slid lower, teasing her waist, his touch light and maddeningly slow. She could feel her pulse quickening, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the anticipation built to an unbearable crescendo. He knew exactly what he was doing to her — Knew how much she wanted him, how much she needed him — And he reveled in it and the power he held over her.

"You’re mine, Y/N. Forever and Always." Ramsay growled softly, his voice thick with possessiveness. "And I will make sure you never forget who you belong to."

He finally gave in to her silent pleas, his lips crashing down on hers with a fierce, demanding intensity. Y/N moaned sweetly into the kiss, her hands tangling in his dark hair as she pulled him closer, desperate for more. The scorching heat between them was electric, a wildfire that had been building for far too long, and now that it had been unleashed, there was no stopping it.

Ramsay’s hands roamed her body with a possessive hunger, his touch rough and insistent, but she didn’t care — She wanted this, needed this. She had been denying herself for too long, and now, in the darkness of her home, with the snow falling outside and the fire crackling behind them, she finally let go and embraced his hedonism.

When he pulled back, his breath heavy, Ramsay smirked down at her, his eyes dark with satisfaction. She looked so kissable, so needy, so innocent and in need of corruption.

"Such a greedy little kitten... All for me..." he teased, his voice low and full of dark amusement. "Just as I always knew you would be." his whisper was husky and sultry. "Insatiable, greedy, needy... Only for me."

Y/N glared weakly at him, blushing through the timidness of a demure maiden in all her glory, purer than the Maiden, and far more beautiful than the Moon herself - And she was burning with desire that was not even close to being satisfied. "And whose fault is that?" she shot back, her voice breathless.

Ramsay chuckled darkly, leaning in to nip at her lower lip, sending another shiver down her spine. "Mine, of course. I love spoiling my haughty little sweetling." he admitted, his voice full of dark pride and impure thought. "The night is not long enough for all the things I want to do to you..."

In the aftermath of countless betrayals and bloodshed, the North was finally restored to its rightful rulers - House Stark. Y/N Stark, with the aid of her Lord Husband, Ramsay Bolton, had reclaimed Winterfell - She united the world once more with a claim as strong as that of the previous King in the North, her dear brother, the Young Wolf, Robb Stark; She became Queen in the North, ruling with a wisdom and wit, aided by the ruthless strategies of her beloved Ramsay - And even more surprisingly, the aid of her little brothers, who had survived Theon's siege - They were brought back by Meera and Jojen Reed.

Theon Greyjoy, now a broken man, lived as "Reek" — A forever shattered reflection of the once-proud yet pathetic Ironborn prince. He became Ramsay's pitiful plaything, his mind too far gone to remember even his own true name.

Far away in the Eyrie, Sansa Stark took over the Vale after Sandor had to throw her Lady aunt, Lysa Arryn, through the Moon Door after she dared attack his beloved songbird out of sheer jealousy - Sansa was far more beautiful than Lysa ever was. The she-wolf willingly married Sandor Clegane out of love, feeling safe and sound in his strong, protective embrace for the first time since she left home. Sansa became Warden in the East, and Y/N's eternal ally, just as their Catelyn and Lysa used to be... As Ned and Jon used to be...

The direwolves returned to the North as well, filling the halls of Winterfell with the howl of 'home' once more. Though Grey Wind was dead, and Ghost was loyally protective Jon at Castle Black, everyone else replaced the Stark siblings for Y/N, whenever she missed her sweet brothers and sisters a little too much. The family was sort-of reunited... The pack survived... But at what cost?

Across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys Targaryen, the true Heir to the Crown, laid her claim over King's Landing, with the aid of her dragons and Tyrion Lannister as her Hand; Cersei Lannister and her devil-spawn child were no more; Myrcella had married the Prince of Dorne and happily remained there, whilst Tommen was more than willing to go to his bride, Margaery Tyrell, and live in the peace and prosperity of Highgarden. No doubt, the happiest was Jaime Lannister, who happily married Brienne of Tarth and returned to Casterly Rock as the Warden of the West, enjoying, for once, a normal life, away from the drama of the Crown, and all that his father and sister brought along.

With peace finally settling over Westeros, Daenerys married Jon - Who found out was actually Aegon Targaryen, the only living son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell;

Together they united in A Song of Ice and Fire.

And what became of the little rat of Winterfell? Arya hadn't stepped in Westeros of ages - She was living her best life, traveling West of Westeros, discovering what was never discovered, venturing into the unknown, and exploring to her heart's content. She was the happiest she could ever be. Perhaps, some day, she would return, homesick - Until then, she will become Nymeria of the Rhoynar and sail into the vast horizon.

The terrible Winds of Winter had dissipated, and the Dream of Spring nurtured blooming hope and joy into the people of Westeros once more.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

Hey I was wondering if you could do an imagine with Neteyam with Navi reader. As the idea I was thinking you both sneak off and end up making out in a tree. Fluff but I wouldn’t mind it being a lil smut but I definitely would love to see fluff if you don’t mind❤️

(Gif not mine)

Pairing: AgedUp!Neteyam/AgedUp!Fem!Na'vi!Reader (oof, mouthful)

Warnings: fluff, aged-up characters, make-out session, heated stares, hinted nsfw, not filthy, honestly very vanilla but its a sweet vanilla lol.

Taglist: @neteyamsl0ver @mooniequeen

A/n: I hinted at both and I am so sorry this took so long. I'm getting better, I promise.

~~~~~~~~~

Honestly, it was to be expected.

The son of the Omatikaya's tsakarem and Toruk Makto, sneaking out with the daughter of Ninat, the best singer of her clan and one of the most beautiful Na'vi women of her generation. 

Truly, their children would be a match made by Eywa herself, and this is why no one should have been surprised to learn the two young Na'vi would sneak away from their families to be alone. Off they went, the moment their families had all fallen asleep, racing each other out into the forest, prancing over the glowing flora of their beautiful world.

Neteyam made a playful grab at your tail and you whipped around, laughing out of surprise, before half-heartedly shoving him away. He doesn't let you get far, grabbing the hand that you had pressed against his chest and keeping it there, his thumb tracing your skin while you could feel his heartbeat beneath your palm. You linger there for a moment, allowing him to captivate you with those yellow eyes, constantly staring into yours, barely blinking and never looking away. You let him think he's got you under his spell before you swiftly break away, running off with your laugh trailing behind you. 

Neteyam smirks and gives chase, following you up a large tree, full of bridge-sized branches intertwining with its neighbors. He chases you up until he has you pinned against the trunk, and this time you don't even try to escape. You let him enjoy the small victory as he plants a kiss on your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder. 

He moves to kiss the other side of your face and neck, mumbling into your skin, "Will you sing for me, ma'yawntu?"

You exhale a quiet sigh at the feel of his lips softly brushing a sensitive spot on your neck, before starting a soft tune. Like your mother, you were a spectacular singer, and it was one of the many traits Neteyam loved about you, and it showed in his enthusiasm as his kisses turned more firm and earnest. They traveled across your collar and down both of your arms before traveling down to your stomach. You begin to squirm, anxious to get him exactly where you want him, your song briefly interrupted between soft gasps and whines until you can't take it anymore.

"Neteyam..."

"Hm?" He peers up at you, pausing his ministrations but keeping his lips on your skin, just below your belly button.

"Kiss me."

"Where?"

You giggle quietly, "My mouth."

You feel his lips smirk against your skin, "But how will I hear your song if I'm kissing you there?"

Your eyes roll and you use this angle to your advantage, gently kneeing Neteyam in the chest. He's startled out of a laugh and stands back up, accepting his fate as he threads both of his hands through the hair on the back of your neck, then leans down to capture you in a slow, tender kiss. You sigh through your nose and close your eyes, satisfied until you feel the need for more. Your hands rest on either side of his hip and you try your best to pull and press his pelvis against yours for some much-needed friction. 

He pulls away, breathless, his eyes screwed shut with restraint as if it pained him to stop. He breathed deeply, in and out, slowly trying to regain his posture as he playfully growled, "Not yet, ma'yawntu. I want to do this right."

You sigh and pause your attempt, knowing you haven't been able to convince him to go any further than making out. You love how courteous and respectful he was. As the future olo'eyktan, it's a commendable and much-needed trait to have, but sometimes it could also be a curse. Neteyam had always wanted to court you properly, in front of the whole clan where everyone could see you and your love, but had wanted to wait until you had both finished your Iknimaya. He had achieved an ikran the year prior, and your own trial just happened to be tomorrow. 

Leaning up to kiss his cheek, you decided you could afford to wait a little longer if it meant having Neteyam all to yourself very soon, "Until tomorrow then."

His eyes pierce yours with the kind of heat that makes your knees tremble, a fervent promise that makes your heart race and skin prickle. One look and he's already trying to test your own restraint and patience. You definitely couldn't wait until he was all yours. 

~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS

[fictoculus]

Hi, how are you? If it's not too much trouble, could I ask for some jealous Tighnari headcanons? please and thank you <33

౨ৎ "is everything alright, dear?"

send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications

FEAT... tighnari

SYNOPSIS... someone hits on you, how will he react?

A/N... hi anon, thanks so much for the request! i'm doing good tyyy, i hope you are too ^^ i sorta got carried away writing this, nd it ended up to be more of "someone hits on you" than jealousy hcs... i hope it's still enjoyable though and i apologise that it isn't reallyyy what you asked for ♡

♪ your boyfriend, tighnari, watches from afar as you engage in idle chit-chat with your fellow scholars, resisting the burning desire to pull you away from them all and keep you in his little world, in which you are the earth and he is the moon.

♪ he often tells you how his life revolves around you, how he sees you wherever he goes whether you're actually there or not, and it never fails to fluster you. of course, you tell him how yours revolves around him also, calming his anxieties as he relishes in your words.

♪ that being said, the second someone tries hitting on you, he loses it. yes, tighnari is a big softie at heart, but being a forest ranger means he has some level of authority, and he will use this to his advantage when confronting your pursuer. you were his after all, and he was equally yours.

♪ this isn't the first time someone has approached you, looking you up and down with wide eyes and shooting a smile in your direction. of course, you send one back their way, but only to be polite, not to evoke further flirting. this is where tighnari steps in.

♪ the soft tickle of his tail brings a wave of relief as your step back into his touch, your pounding heart settling at the sound of his voice

"is everything alright, dear?"

♪ it's rare that he uses pet names with you, and so you blush slightly as the endearment slips from his lips.

"y'know this guy?"

"well, this language is rather improper. what, are you trying to scare them off?"

♪ he scoffs, taking the liberty to step in front of you and hover a hand above your torso, all while holding firm eye contact with his 'opponent'.

"excuse us, my partner and i have places to be"

♪ your not-at-all-secret admirer is left dumbfounded as tighnari takes your hand in his, hastily leading you away from the hustle and bustle. the two of you swerve to the right into a quiet corridor where he takes a moment to check you over.

"are you alright?"

♪ you assure him you're unhurt, both mentally and physically, before thanking him for intervening; planting a loving kiss on the corner of his mouth and another on the tip of his nose.

♪ only when he's fully convinced that you're unscathed do the two of you head for the exit, leaving the leftover errands for tomorrow after the unexpected turn of events.

♪ even after you arrive home, tighnari refuses to let you out of his sight, whining whenever you pull away from him or leave to grab a glass of water (stay hydrated!)

"i'll only be a minute"

"that's what you said earlier, then that idiot came and harassed you!"

"he wasn't harassing me, love. archons, 'this language is rather improper'-"

smack!

♪ the plush of a cushion collides with your cheek, interrupting your teasing as tighnari scurries away; whether it was out of fear or playfulness you will never know.

♪ either way, the two of you spend the rest of the evening chasing after each other, starting with 2 plump pillows and ending with empty cases, your hair tangled and covered in fluff and feathers.

♪ it's almost comical how something that was so serious in the moment becomes somewhat of a joke, but that's just the way your relationship works, and as long as he knows you're alright, tighnari thinks it's just fine...

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you’d like me to write next!

TAGLIST…@maopll . @nyxmainex . @avensuersa apply here

© FICTOCULUS 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own

[lancermylove]

Soft Song (HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Silver, Deuce, Riddle, Ace, Jack, Trey with fem!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: @miriamladyvoid

Prompt: Yeah! open orders I want to try to make mine Reader: Female (Romantic) Type: Headcanons Fandom: (Twst) Silver, Deuce, Riddle, Ace, Jack and Trey.

Scenario: A reader who sings soft love songs to her boyfriend, she has a beautiful voice but she only sings for her boyfriend. That she always hugs them and close to her ear she sings softly for him and at the end of each song she ends with a soft kiss.

If my order does not convince you, you can discard it without problems, but if not, take your time and without pressure, thank you<3

A/N: Hope you like it! Also, your request is so pretty and colorful.

———————————————

Silver

Silver appreciates your tender actions. While you sing, he watches you with a loving smile. His eyes have a softness that he keeps reserved only for you.

Before he met you, he always thought napping in the forest was the most peaceful thing. But now, Silver finds your soft voice and warm hug comforting.

When you sing for him, he usually ends up falling asleep with his head resting on your shoulder.

Your kiss is the last moment he remembers before drifting into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Riddle

Unlike the others, Riddle tenses up when you pull him close to you. But when you begin to sing, he starts to calm down. However, his cheeks are still red from being so close to you.

Your soothing voice is enough to calm him down completely, even if he is having one of his temper tantrums.

When the two of you started dating, Riddle would listen to your song but not let you kiss him as he was too shy. Initially, you kissed his cheek, then slowly made your way to his lips.

Once he is comfortable with your gesture, he loves getting kisses from you in the private space, of course.

Trey

He loves hearing your soft voice, no matter the time, even when he is cooking. But most of all, he loves to listen to it during your intimate time together.

Nothing beats the two of you sitting on his bed (or yours), hugging each other as you sing to him. His fingers brush through your hair as your arms wrap around him.

Trey also has a soft smile on his lips, and his eyes are closed so he can focus on your touch and voice.

Once you finish singing and give him a soft kiss, Trey likes to cuddle with you until the two of you fall asleep.

Ace

When you first start singing, Ace is taken aback. But his shock soon melts into a warm smile. There is something so magical about your voice that he feels like his heart is melting.

But when you wrap your arms around him and bring your mouth close to his ear, Ace tenses up and can't focus on anything.

It takes him a long time to get used to your touch mixed with your sweet voice. It's too much for him.

Once he gets used to your touch and voice, Ace can't get enough of it. But sometimes, he can't control himself, and your soft moment turns into something spicy.

Deuce

He loves to hear your soft voice, especially after a long, tiresome day. Though he finds it romantic, he always blushes whenever you hold him close and sing to him.

What makes your gesture even more special is that your voice and songs are for him only.

But Deuce looks forward to the kiss more than anything. The gentle feel of your lips against his makes his heart race out of control and sends shivers through his body.

Jack

Initially, Jack doesn't like you getting physically close to him, so he listens to your singing from a distance. He likes hearing your soothing and melodious voice.

Then, once the two of you have dated for months, he will let you hold him close. A few months more, and he will let you kiss him.

More than anything, he likes hearing your voice right before going to bed. It helps him sleep better.

But the one thing that Jack will not let you do is sing right in his ears. For one, his hearing is sharp, so singing close to his ear would cause him to get shocked more than anything. Second, his ears are sensitive, so if your warm breath brushes against his ear...he will have to run away to control his...urges.

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open

[justanamesstuff]

Sweeter than honey - Hozier x f!reader

A/N: sorry not sorry if this is the most cliché thing about Andy but couldn't help my self. This fic is a statement to say this man deserves more stories under his name <33 love you forest daddy (hope you never reads this haha) Warnings: FLUFF, typos Words count: 0.7 k

The short path from Andrew’s house to the –no so small — patch of his land, destined to his bees, felt like it took ages to walk down. She felt her stomach turn due to anxiety thinking about the task in hand. Y/n had been stung by a bee during her childhood, traumatizing her enough so the pain, the fear, remained for years and years. The woman damned herself for being in love with the biggest beekeeper around town. 

 Her sight fell on Andrew’s back, watching him walk with so much excitement, she couldn’t reciprocate. The man had been trying for the longest time to convince his girlfriend to meet his bees, being the offer declined time and time again. Until Y/n felt guilty enough and finally said yes. She would never forget the bright smile he gifted her when Y/n timidly asked about the process and she could join him during his next visit. 

As if he could sense her eyes on him, Andrew turned around still walking not wasting any minute, scared about Y/n changing her mind. 

“Baby?” his smile fell a little. 

“If one of them sting me…” she warned him, still scared of the situation. 

Andrew stopped in his tracks, worried about his girlfriend once more. The man grabbed her hand on his, sharing some warmth, wishing it could take away her fear. 

Searching for her eyes, he continued, “trust me, okay?”

Y/n couldn’t help to push her feet down on the earth like a little child throwing a tantrum. The act made her boyfriend laugh. 

“Baby…” she wanted to wipe his amusement away. 

“Stop making fun of me. This is serious for me, Andy.”

He moved closer and closer, rounding her with his big arms. 

Y/n felt his breath on her hair line, “I know, I know. Everything will be okay, I wouldn’t let you get hurt, baby. I promise.” Andrew ended his sentence leaving a kiss on her forehead. 

“Okay, let's do this.” she moved backwards, giving him a stronger look than before, trying to let him know she was ready.

Hand in hand, they approached the colonies. 

……………………………………..

In the end, Y/n had fun with Andrew and his bees. He showed her the day-to-day work, the progress of each colony, and even she saw a queen from up close, which excited her the most. She did fell scared during the first movements when he was worried about a box falling apart and all his attention was in transferring the colony to their new home. 

Even though after that short moment, her boyfriend was focused on making her fell comfortable around his little friends. It was even ironic how gentle the bees were, just as Andy, making her fell quickly in love with them. 

Y/n watched him too his special outfit, trying to comb his long hair, and like a little excited girl she started talking. 

“So, when do we come back?” 

Andrew chuckled.

“Someone is not scared any more, huh?” he teased her, combing his hair back into his signature bun. 

Y/n felt too seen by her boyfriend, “Well, I-” 

“We can return tomorrow, if you want…” Andrew offered, taking her face between his big hands.

“Really?”

“Yes, baby. Whatever you want.”

“I would love to!” she answered, looking into his soft eyes. 

“Me too.” he left a kick kiss on her lips, feeling her relax into his embrace. 

Y/n was the first one to push back, “I can’t wait to see them again.”

Andrew, amazed by her changed of attitude towards the bees, faked a frown. 

“I’m starting to believe you prefer them over me.” 

“Hundred percent yes!” Y/n joined the joke, whispering her answer before covering her mouth quickly with her hand. “Never, my love.”

The singer laughed at her antics, leaning down to kiss her once more. 

Without many more words, Andrew and Y/n walked in silence towards his house when an intrusive though crossed Y/n’s head. 

“Would you name a queen after me?”

Andy stayed silence.

“Andy?”

Still no answer.

“Don’t tell me…”  Y/n turned to witness a very red-faced Andrew. “Stop it! You’re too sweet to be true, honey!” she exclaimed, making her best effort to kiss his blushed cheeks. 

[villain-crown]

regret | @jegulus-microfic | words: 1,255

critical care, part 4 (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9)

a Jegulus nurse!AU

Despite his conviction, James did not end up mustering the courage to ask Regulus out that day. He almost managed to get there a few times, but then Sirius would just pop out of nowhere with some meaningless side quest for him to work on. Each time James had finished doing what was asked of him, Regulus had moved on to busy himself with something else.

The next morning, James finally accepted that he had been left with no choice.

He would have to physically visit the “dungeons” himself.

Standing in front of the doors to the Slytherin cardiovascular intensive care unit two floors below Gryffindor, James took a few slow, steadying breaths. It was his lunch break and he was determined to finally speak with Regulus without Sirius running constant interference.

Do you want to go out sometime? he rehearsed in his head, swiping his badge to gain admission through the doors. No… more assertive. Let's go out sometime. Yeah, yeah that’s good—

“Who the hell are you?”

James pulled his gaze to find a Slytherin with platinum blond hair looking him over from behind the nurses’ station counter. She was perfectly put together in designer forest-green scrubs with a matching stethoscope clipped to her waist and her badge was decorated with multiple pins outlining her various professional awards and accomplishments.

James rolled his eyes upon recognizing her. “Oh come on Narcissa, we’ve worked together for five years!”

“Fine. What do you want, Potter?”

“To talk to Regulus,” he declared bravely.

Narcissa lifted a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “He’s busy.”

“I know,” James replied quickly. “I just need like thirty seconds to—“

“Did they finish up the chest tube?” Narcissa interrupted him to address her sister, Andromeda, who had just exited the patient room right behind him.

“Yeah, Slughorn’s fellow finally gave up on the resident and just shoved it in himself. This whole river of nasty yellow pus shot out of her left lung. It was wild. Hey, James. What are you doing here?”

James blinked as the conversation suddenly twisted back around to include him. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Narcissa cut him off.

“He’s here for Regulus, apparently.”

Suddenly, both of them were sizing him up. Their critical gaze made him wish he’d thought to iron his burgundy scrubs or something. “Have you told him what happened to the last guy who was ‘here for Regulus?’”

“C’mon guys, I just want to talk to him.”

“Talk to him or sleep with him?”

James jumped as Bellatrix, the third Black sister, appeared from fucking thin air right at his elbow.

“Bloody hell, Bellatrix, where did you even come from!?”

“Excuse you, you’re the one barging onto my unit trying to filch our baby cousin.”

“You just snuck—“

“Potter,” Narcissa interrupted impatiently, tapping her wristwatch. “We have a fresh heart coming in. You’ve got till then to convince us we won’t regret this.”

“Lunch,” James replied quickly, straightening up. “I just want to take him to lunch, I swear.”

“Are you single?”

James flinched. “W-what?”

Bellatrix snapped her fingers in his face. “You’ve got sixty seconds. Don’t waste our time. Are. You. Single?”

“Yes!”

“You like our little cousin?”

“Yes… ma’am.”

“Are you fucking anyone at the moment?”

“Bella!”

“Are you?”

“No!”

Bellatrix’s dark navy eyes bored into him like she wanted to crawl into his head and take a good long look around. “Hm. To the cafeteria and back only—and keep your hands to yourself or I’ll snap them off and use them to hold pressure on room 18’s hematoma. You’d better buy his lunch.”

James had just enough time to gape at the Black sisters before the double doors to the unit opened and a procession of operating room staff came inching through, a heavily sedated heart transplant patient transported among them.

Seizing the distraction, James backed away quickly to locate Regulus, who he found resetting his workspace after a procedure, preparing an incredibly unstable older man for the next rocky hour of hanging onto life. Partially-clotted blood stained the floor, hastily covered by surgical towels from when they’d inserted an emergency dialysis line in the patient’s neck. A machine to filter his blood had been set up near the ventilator.

Regulus looked very cute in his Slytherin-green jogger scrubs and soft fleece zip-up. The loose coal curls atop his head shifted with each turn of his neck and his slight frame just made James want to scoop him up and put him on his lap.

“What, Potter?” Regulus finally asked when he’d hovered in the hallway for over a minute, depositing the last of the capped needles into the sharps container.

Let's go out sometime, he coached himself. C’mon, Potter, you’ve got this! Let’s go out some—

“Lunch!” he blurted out. “Er, Bellatrix said you can take your lunch now.”

“What?” Regulus frowned, glancing at the clock. “It’s barely noon.”

“We should go,” James said quickly. “At the same time, I mean. Together.”

Regulus quirked a dark brow, his silver eyes sizing James up in the bright hospital lighting as he paused in changing his dialysis machine’s filter. “Together?”

“To the same place.”

“I’m not a bloody idiot. I know what ‘together’ means.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

Regulus tilted his head in amusement. “Listen, Potter… you’re a bit of an idiot so I’m going to spell this out for you.”

Oh please spell out “take me, I’m yours.”

“I don’t get any nicer than this and some of my needs aren’t easily met.”

James felt his heart rate pick up. Fuuuck, he was in trouble. Sirius was going to kill him. Bellatrix was going to throw him off the roof of the critical care tower. He really did just mean to ask Regulus to lunch; maybe get to know each other a bit, make plans for the weekend.

But the mouth on him!

“I’m very good at meeting needs.”

Regulus didn’t seem to buy that. “Really?” he drawled, looking James up and down with obvious doubt, making the Gryffindor bristle.

“What makes you think I can’t?”

“You strike me as a bit too… sweet; people please-y. You’re aware that my stupid brother has forbidden everyone in this hospital from making anything resembling a pass at me?”

“It’s just lunch.”

“Is it?”

“Do you want it to be?”

Regulus smirked, taking the three slow steps necessary to close the distance between them, pushing himself up on his toes to breathe in James’s ear.

“The things I like might be a bit much for you.”

“I think you’re really underestimating the things we’ve already done in my head.”

Coming back down on his heels, Regulus ran his tongue over his teeth before biting down on his lower lip. “Hm. I’m intrigued. Fine, I’ll get Snape to cover my patients. You’d better have more to offer than that dazed look on your face, Potter.”

With that, Regulus walked away.

…Holy shit.

HOLY SHIT!

He had a lunch date with Regulus Black!

Left alone with his raging thoughts and a sedated patient, James fumbled with his phone to send a frantic text.

To ‼️📣Marlene📣‼️:

If he meets my parents on Friday, I can propose on Saturday, and spend all of Sunday absolutely railing him.

Looks like I have weekend plans ❤️❤️❤️

From ‼️📣Marlene📣‼️:

There’s no saving you anymore, Potter. You have a death wish, and at this point, you frankly deserve it.

RIP when Sirius finds out what you’re doing ☠️

[rowaelinsdaughter]

what happens in the forest stays in the forest

this is one of my favorite fics ive written so far, but i needed to write something fluff and with rowaelin. i miss them so much.

WARNINGS; none, pure fluff

you were bored

bored and tired.

since you found out you were pregnant 5 months ago, rowan and aelin didn't leave your side for a second, so you couldn't go out on the street if you weren't with them and they didn't trust the guards and fenrys couldn't be near you without that rowan growled at him.

you were in your room waiting for them to finish a meeting, but you were tired of waiting so you decided to go find them.

carefully, you go down the stairs and reach the door where the meeting is taking place and gently knock on the door, you place a hand on your belly as if you wanted to protect the baby from the people inside. the door opens and rowan appears. instinctively, a smile appears on your lips and rowan hugs you carefully, leaving a soft kiss on your hair while one of his hands rests on top of yours.

"what are you doing here? you were supposed to be in the room.”

“and like you said yourself, i was,” you joke. “but i was bored and i wanted to get out of here and spend time with you.”

you hear the sound of a chair dragging on the floor and immediately aelin appears, leaving a kiss on your lips. “come sit down you-”

“you can stand for a long time” you imitate her.

aelin sits you in her chair and the people who were there stand there not knowing what to do until…

“everyone out”

“but your majesty, you cannot do this”

“i can and i want to. now everyone out."

one by one they leave the room under aelin's gaze, promising a slow death to anyone who says otherwise or looks at you wrong. once everyone has left, aelin kneels in front of you, at the height of your belly, and rowan sits next to you.

aelin's hands caress your belly and as always she speaks softly to her. "hi little girl. i hope you are not giving mom too much trouble and let her rest.”

your hand strokes her hair gently and she gets up to sit at the table.

“i thought i heard that you were bored and wanted to spend time with us”

you sigh. “i've been stuck here for too long, i've already read all the books we have, i want to get out of the castle” you look at the two of them “why don't we go for a walk in the forest?”

there is silence and you wait for them to say yes, mentally crossing your fingers. rowan breaks the silence. “okay but we have to be here before it gets dark.”

you smile widely and rowan chuckles softly as aelin helps you up.

________

oakwald was undoubtedly your favorite place. you love the smell of wildflowers, the shade of the trees refreshes the atmosphere and the animals run back and forth.

after much insistence and many comments about why you shouldn't go barefoot, you finally convinced them to take off your shoes (which were also destroying your feet).

barefoot and holding onto their arms, you breathe deeply, letting your senses calm down.

you reach a clearing with a small waterfall and sit down to rest with rowan and aelin on either side.

“you don't have to stay with me, you know? why don’t you go take a bath?”

“i don't think it's-”

“yes, that's a good idea, come on, i'm not going to move from here.”

at the end, you watch as they take off their clothes and aelin runs to jump into the water while laughing. with rowan close to the shore, aelin takes the opportunity to grab his arm and pull him into the water with her. you notice the joy and love coming through the bond and you couldn't be happier for them and for the life you are creating together.

you feel a presence behind you and you turn to see what or who is behind you. a white shadow passes through the bushes. you are curious and carefully get up and follow a trail of white flowers from where you were sitting to an ancient tree. and in front of it,  the lord of the north in all his splendor.

your breath stops and the lord of the north approaches with slow steps until he is in front of you. being careful not to hit you with the antlers,he caress your belly with his nose. you raise your hand slowly so as not to scare him and pet his soft fur. he turns away from you and looks into your eyes, tilting his head. respect. for you and your baby. the lord of the north looks behind you and you turn to see rowan and aelin, fully clothed. a silver line decorates rowan's green eyes, while tears run down aelin's cheeks.

with a final nod to them, the lord of the north walks away into the trees. you feel arms surround your belly and aelin leaves small kisses on your neck, tickling you. rowan stands in front of you and caresses your cheeks with his hands to kiss you softly.

“don't leave again without saying anything”

you roll your eyes “it was too good to be true”

tagging; @danikamariewrites @throneofsapphics @thehighladywrites @shadowdaddies @vanserrasswife

all rights reserved to ©rowaelinsdaughter. no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday

Happy Wednesday! Have some more of FDB's POV! They're finally out of the tree, FDB is still carrying an injured and exhausted DFS on his back, and he is currently trying to convince DFS (who is fighting to stay conscious) to let himself rest. (You can find all previous excerpts here.)

**

Fang Duobing smiled. At last, something he could do. “Alright, a-Fei. Home it is.”

For a moment, a-Fei relaxed even more against him. 

Then a-Fei stilled, all his muscles spasmed and clenched, and he jerked his head off Fang Duobing with a pained grunt, looking all around them.

“What’s wrong?” Fang Duobing asked, suddenly terrified. “Another qi deviation? An attacker? Do you need me to put you down? Or Yangzhouman?”

The ensuing silence seemed to last forever, although it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.  

“Home,” a-Fei said, his voice so wrecked it sounded like his throat had been sliced to ribbons. “To the left.” He swallowed audibly and tried again. “Around the hill.” 

Fang Duobing wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream, cry, shake a-Fei, or hold him tightly and never let go more. “It’s alright. We’ll find the way. I promise. Just rest. Try to sleep.”

Even as a-Fei shook his head, he was slumping forward. “Not yet,” he muttered. “Not here.” 

What was wrong with here? It was just a forest—

Oh. Fang Duobing winced. A-Fei had been unconscious in a forest after being cured of Wuxin Huai when Jiao Liqiao had kidnapped him the first time. 

“A-Fei,” Fang Duobing paused, trying to figure out what might convince him. “There are no enemies here. No danger. You can stop fighting now.”

A-Fei’s hair brushed against Fang Duobing’s shoulder as he shook his head again.“—’s always danger,” he mumbled. His head fell forward and landed on Fang Duobing’s neck again. He tried and failed to lift it again, then made a sound that was far too close to a whimper. 

Fang Duobing tried to breathe through the sudden, visceral need to travel to the past and make everyone who had ever hurt a-Fei and made safety a foreign concept wish they had never been born. “If we run into any danger, I’ll protect you, alright?”

A-Fei huffed a wet attempt at a laugh into his hair and his head twitched like he was trying and failing to shake it. “–’s my job, brat.”

Fang Duobing’s heart clenched as hundreds of proclamations tried to burst out from behind his closed lips: that a-Fei was in no shape to protect anyone at the moment, that protecting each other was all of their jobs and did a-Fei really think that his protection was all he had to offer? He was a person, not a dao! That a-Fei deserved to be protected, that a-Fei was protected now, and would continue to be as long as he, Fang Duobing, drew breath, and that no one would ever be able to harm him again. 

He swallowed them all back and tried to find an approach less liable to end in disaster. “It’s my job, too, a-Fei,” he said at last. “We can take turns, just like we’ve taken turns looking after Xiaohua’er. You already protected me, by helping with my qinggong. So now it’s my turn for a bit, alright?” He held his breath, hoping his words would convince a-Fei to stop fighting the pull of exhaustion, would let a-Fei’s clenched, shaking muscles lay down their tension. 

Nothing changed, although judging by the way a-Fei’s face rustled in his hair, a-Fei had rolled his eyes and raised a skeptical eyebrow, despite the pain and energy expenditure.

Well, there was one thing he hadn’t yet tried. And since a-Fei had thought that praising his qinggong was akin to rewarding Huli Jing’s new tricks with treats, then turn-about was fair play. Now, what precisely had a-Fei said? Ah, yes. “A-Fei?” He waited for a tired hum in response. “You did well, too. Good job. So rest, now, alright? As a reward.” 

A short pause. Then a-Fei’s faint, barely-there huff of amusement tickled the skin on the back of his neck. “–t’s not a new trick,” he said, so quietly Fang Duobing had to strain to hear it.

Fang Duobing smiled sadly and shook his head. Trust a-Fei to find a way to praise his own skills while barely conscious. And simultaneously to refuse to celebrate or rest. “I know. You always do well. You’ve had to. But you’re not alone anymore: you have us. And I know I’m not Xiaohua’er, and you don’t trust me like you trust him. But I promise, I will bring you to him and I won’t let anything get in the way. You’re safe, a-Fei. You can let go now, ok?”

There was a long pause. So long Fang Duobing wondered if he’d actually already lost consciousness.

A-Fei’s finger twitched, then gave Fang Duobing’s collarbone one last, faint tap.

Then a-Fei slumped against his back like a sack of rice. 

Fang Duobing closed his eyes, took a slow, deep breath, letting the crisp scent of the forest sink into his lungs and ground him until he felt less like he was about to cry or shake apart.

Huli Jing whined loudly, then nosed at Fang Duobing’s leg.

“I know,” Fang Duobing said. He swallowed, hiked a-Fei up higher on his back, and took a deep breath. “Lead us home, girl.”

Huli Jing took off, to the left, and around the hill.

Fang Duobing raced after her.

[mathanlin]

// mentions of hunger, neglect, and cold, blood and injury

Fae AU where fae!Wilbur’s approached by a skinny street kid. 

More accurately, a *pickpocket,* clutching stolen gold in one shaking hand. *He’ll want luck, riches,* Wilbur thinks, amused. *Or food, if he’s stupid—*

“Can I have a hug?” 

“What?”

“A… a hug?” The kid mumbles, swallowing. “I think— you just put your arms around someone and… hold them. I saw someone do it.” 

The clumsy explanation does nothing to answer Wilbur’s real question. 

So he pushes further, intrigued.

“What do you have to give me?”

The kid straightens. “Gold. Enough for a few days of meals, or— or somewhere nice to sleep.”

It’s worthless to Wilbur. 

But it tells him exactly what the kid’s willing to give up. 

So he smiles. “I accept.”

The kid barely moves, flinching as Wilbur steps up to him. Shivering, cowering, like he expects a hit, a shove. Or even just refusal.

But yet when Wilbur slides his arms around his weak, malnourished frame…

The kid melts.

He keeps coming back.

Sunshine. That’s the nickname Wilbur gives him, after the kid (smartly) refuses to give his true name.

But that’s where his intelligence ends.

“Just… talk to me?”

The kid sets a stolen necklace outside the Fae circle, shivering. It’s freezing, his jaw chattering beneath hollow cheeks. 

Wilbur raises an eyebrow, hesitating. “Wouldn’t you rather have a blanket? Some warm food?”

It’s… just a little from the kindness of his heart.

The kid could die like this. He’s already half-starved, beat-up, and alone.

But he still shakes his head weakly. “No. Just… tell me a story.”

It gets warmer. 

The kid appears less, and though Wilbur’s sad, he’s also relieved. Maybe he’s found someone to care for him. Maybe he doesn’t have to gamble his soul for affection.

And then he stumbles into Wilbur’s forest. 

Half-dead. 

“I’ll give you my name,” is the first thing he chokes out, clutching his bloodied side. 

*To heal you?* Wilbur thinks, recoiling. *That’s not worth the cost, surely you know that—*

“Just— stay with me, please?”

“What?”

Wilbur barely whispers it, stunned. Tommy flinches, paling.

“I’m— I’m dying,” he chokes out. Honesty, like the Fae like. 

Wilbur hates it now.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“Sunshine—”

“Tommy,” the kid says, shaking. “Tommy, my name’s Tommy, you can have it. Please, don’t leave me.”

And of course, Wilbur doesn’t.

(Despite the blood loss, Tommy still sobs with relief when Wilbur picks him up. 

At least he has someone holding him gently, even if he’s being carried into a Fae circle.

And giving his name & soul away was worth it, for this.)

.

.

.

Even after, Tommy can't accept affection. 

It's not that he doesn't want it. Wilbur can tell that each refusal is a flat-out lie.

But Tommy's telling the truth when he whispers, "I'll let you hug me if I can pay you back."

Nothing Wilbur does can convince him that the affection is free. 

And apparently saying, “You don’t have anything I *want,* Tommy,” wasn’t the right thing to say.

Tommy just shuts down further.

Fuck being a Fae. Wilbur’s desperate — and if that means making a deal with a human, even one whose name he has, so be it.

“How about you hug *me?*”

Tommy blinks, eyes half lidded from exhaustion.

“What?”

“I want a hug,” Wilbur says, trying to keep his voice light. He can’t tell lies, and Tommy knows it. 

So maybe that’s why the kid quietly, hesitantly accepts. 

It’s a sort of gentle trickery. 

Tommy will still shiver when Wilbur hugs him back, but it’s better than nothing. He’ll stay rigid when Wilbur asks to brush his hair, like he doesn’t know that Wilbur *wants* him to lean into it.

And the time he does, he panics.

One moment he’s asleep, dozing on Wilbur’s shoulder after a particularly long hug.

And then he’s jolting awake, choking out, “I’m sorry,” before his eyes are even fully open.

“Tommy—”

“I— I’ll pay you. Please, I know you— I don’t have anything you want, but—”

“—no, sunshine, you—”

“—or— or you can give me less? I don’t need blankets, or food, or—”

“Stop.”

It’s a Fae’s command. And with Tommy’s name in his possession, Wilbur shuts him right up.

“I want you to be happy,” he whispers, unable to stop himself from crying. Tommy stares at him, still trembling, but listening. “That’s it, okay?”

“But—”

“I want you to feel loved, Toms, whatever it takes. I want you to ask me when you want affection, or food, *anything.* 

Fae can tell no lies.

“So promise me, sunshine. Promise you’ll ask.”

And they can feel lies, too.

So when Tommy breathes, “I’ll try,” Wilbur finally relaxes. 

[levia-chan]

MAKING PACT

A/N: Well, for some reason Tumblr doesn't have many works with demon!MC, so I decided to try to write my own, I hope you like it :3

- No.

- MC, please think again. I assure you, this pact will benefit both of us! - that annoying sorcerer won't leave you alone.

He's been trying to get you to make a pact with him for quite some time. You don't want that. Which, in fact, led to your current situation. You're desperately trying to get away from the sorcerer somewhere far away, and he's still following you.

- I said no. Look for some other demon to make a pact with them.

It seems suspicious to you that such a powerful sorcerer is persistently trying to make a pact with you. You don't have such a high rank and you barely match the level of the fallen brothers, so why would he do that?

Solomon already has 72 demons under his control, so what would change if you joined this list? If he wants a pact with you just because you're closely related to the seven brothers, then he won't get it.

- MC, listen, I don't just want to make a pact with you. I see great potential in you! If we combine our knowledge and abilities, we can achieve a lot! Besides, we will certainly be able to learn something new from each other! - he was hoping to convince you with that sweet talk and friendly smile.

Oh, Diavolo, this man is really testing your patience.

That's it, you've had enough.

You stop abruptly and turn to face him. "Listen, I'm flattered by your desire to make a pact with me, but I doubt we'll be able to learn anything from each other. Besides, you overestimate me. I'm not that strong, and I don't want to be overshadowed by a human."

Now that he finally had your attention, he took your hand in his and gently ran his thumb over your knuckles.

- You're being too hard on yourself. You have your strengths, and I have my weaknesses. If you're still not sure, then how about showing off our skills to each other?

You wanted to object, but first you decided to weigh the pros and cons. In the end, you decided that a show of force wouldn't hurt and would perfectly show who you'd be connected to if you did decide to make a pact.

- Okay, I'm interested. But after this show, my decision will be final. Either we make a pact or not, it's up to me. Is that clear? - you took your hands out of his hands.

Solomon nods his head. He understands your conditions perfectly and will be ready to fulfill them, even if everything turns out not in his favor.

- Great! Now it remains to decide exactly where we would like to do this.

Both of you turned your heads at the same time towards the old dark forest not far from you. There is almost no one there, except for some rarely passing animals, plus it is far from the busy city.

Just perfect.

- Huh, I think great minds think the same way, - you laugh and start moving towards the forest first.

Solomon didn't mind that you were leading him. It didn't take you long to get to the middle of the forest, where you are surrounded only by earth, rocks and some sticks. You are accompanied by a light cool wind that makes the hairs on your skin stand on end, because you were not wearing enough warm clothes.

He noticed that you were shaking a little, so he immediately took his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

- Are you cold? - he was smiling as he put his coat on your shoulders. "I wouldn't want you to freeze. You still need to demonstrate your abilities, MC."

You fell into a stupor for a while. You didn't expect such gentlemanly behavior, especially from him.

- What about you? You people are more fragile. A little breeze won't kill me. Take care of yourself, wizard - you tried to give him back his coat.

The last thing you need is for him to poke you in the face what a sissy you are for the rest of the day.

The sorcerer, also stubborn, forced you to keep his coat with you. "I want you to know that I'm not like other people. Besides, the turtleneck suits me fine," he fiddled with the fabric around his neck.

Well, if he insists, then who are you to refuse?

Now that you have reached the perfect location, you have a large empty space at your disposal.

You turned your head towards him and tilted it slightly. "So, are you starting or am I?" you're flexing your fingers in preparation for the demonstration.

Solomon laughed and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. "Come on, please, demons go ahead."

- Wow, look at the gentleman, - you smirked.

At first, you stretched your hand out and felt the breeze passing through your fingers. You put your middle finger and thumb together and started concentrating. Magic began to crackle in the air. When a ball of magical energy formed in your hand, you turned all your attention to one object.

You looked at a large boulder and sharply reduced the sphere, after which you sent this small ball to the boulder. In just a second, a rather powerful explosion occurred. Strong air currents formed, as well as debris of different sizes, which began to fly in different directions. Some even flew in your direction.

- MC! - Solomon grabbed your arm and tried to pull you away, but you didn't even move.

You looked at the wreckage and clenched your hand into a fist. The stones stopped abruptly in the air and began to fall to the ground under the influence of gravity, forming small craters.

Since the danger has passed, the sorcerer has released your hand. He breathed out a sigh of relief and looked at you worriedly. "You could have been hurt, you know? It's good that you have a great reaction."

- I know my abilities and I wouldn't do this if I wasn't sure of my own safety. But it's nice that you're worried about me when you should be thinking about yourself.

He chuckled as it was his turn to show his strength. He will prove that he is worthy to make a pact with you.

- Let's see if you'll keep thinking I'm weak. Oh, and by the way, you're not getting seasick in the air, are you? - he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

- No. Why-

You didn't have time to finish and understand what was going on, because you suddenly flew into the sky. The only thing that could soften your fall is the edges of the trees.

Solomon was next to you in a second, but he was much better at floating in the air than you were. Watching you awkwardly hanging in the air, he covered his mouth, trying to hide a chuckle. - Well? Are you having fun?

You stared at him, kicking your legs in the air. "What do you think? You just shot me like a projectile from a catapult! And without any warning!"

- You'll get used to it soon, but for now let me help you, - he flew up to you and took your hands. He began to guide you, and now your flight has stopped being so erratic.

It took your breath away to realize that you were so high above the ground. "You don't send everyone you meet flying, do you? Because it's a great way to make enemies."

- Don't worry, I'm not that reckless, - he smiled and gently lowered you both down. "I only do this with those who are really interesting to me and with whom I want to become closer."

You fell silent, feeling his gaze on you. "Solomon, - you haven't called him that for quite a while, - if you want to make a pact with me just because I know my brothers well, then you don't have to continue. I don't like being used."

He seemed to be taken aback by this response. "Is that why you've been rejecting the pact all this time?"

-... Well.. Why else would you sign a contract with me?..

Solomon gently took your hand. "MC.. Pacts are not something you will make with someone for no reason. What I want from you means more to me than strength or power."

Your feet finally touched the ground, and you were speechless after such a subtle confession. You can't even look at him.

- It looks like I'm making things too complicated, - he noticed your stunned state. "According to our agreement, I will accept any decision you make. Pact or not," he lowered his head and looked away, preparing to face rejection.

Before he left, you grabbed his arm and stopped him.

- The pact. I want to make a pact with you.

[inhuman-obey-me]

🌑 + Simeon + MC = ?

"Embrace the shadow following behind." - Simeon/MC

An angel’s fall is often painted as one of disgrace, of shame. Once a beloved creature, now a despicable monster. A being of light now immersed in the shadows.

The story of the Great Celestial War can always be found in the whispers of the Celestial Palace, in the teachings of the angels, in the way that several large portraits in the halls had been removed but how nothing ever replaced them – a constant reminder of them. Those who dared to oppose their Father, those who dared doubt him. 

Simeon is beginning to wonder if he, too, might soon become a warning tale. 

It had already been set into motion long ago, with his demotion to archangel after he refused to fight, after he covered for Lucifer. As the years passed, he often found himself wondering – Why didn’t you join them? Why didn’t you fight?

Had he been a coward? Or did he want to so desperately believe that, at the end of it all, Father did everything for a reason? His guiding light is all he had ever known, all he had ever worshipped. 

He does not have anything else.

That’s a lie. 

He struggles to silence the voice in the back of his mind, but it has become more and more difficult as time passes, a shadow constantly clinging to him. You have them, it reminds. His long lost friends in the Devildom, new friends as well – and one particular human who has ensnared him, enamored him. 

You have them.

“Simeon? Got something on your mind?” 

Snapped out of his thoughts, he turns to be greeted by the most recent subject of his musings. 

“Oh, nothing important.” He flashes that warm smile of his, trying to ease your worry – though his gaze can’t help but fall on the Ring of Light adorning your hand. The ring that now has further embroiled him in Michael’s ire, in Father’s. 

“You know, I’m always here to listen.” You aren’t convinced, and take a few slow steps towards him. Placing a hand on his arm, you look into those cerulean-sun eyes as you try to read him. He has always made that difficult. “You’ve been out on the balcony for a while.” 

“I know.” Simeon’s smile softens, as does his gaze. With a sigh, he looks back out to the quiet Devildom forest. “Just…thinking about the future.”

“That sounds important.” You tilt your head to the side, lips curved in a teasing smirk. “What future are you thinking of?”

“...Of the Three Realms. Of mine.” He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to choose his words carefully. “Trying to figure out what it is that I want.” 

“What you want, hm? Well, I was told some great advice once. Maybe it’ll help?” You bring your hands up to cup his face, earning a look of surprise. “When in doubt, have a little talk with yourself. Close your eyes, and have a heart-to-heart.” 

Simeon can’t help but laugh, shaking his head slightly in your grasp. “Using my own words against me. Very clever, dear.”

“Hey, I know you’re the type who won’t listen to his own advice.” With a grin, you lean forward and place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, then his lips. “So, I’m going to make sure you do, okay?” 

“Okay.” He chuckles, feeling a warmth in his chest. As you move to cover his ears, he lets his eyes close and confronts that voice he tries to keep away. The voice that has followed him from eons ago, from that first inkling of what if? What if he had joined? What if he had done something else? What if he could be with those he held so dearly without fear or repercussion?

He thought all he had was the Celestial Realm. That all he had was what Father called love.  

You know that’s not true. You have everything you need, right here. 

As your hands eventually leave his ears, he hears the distant shouts of Lucifer and his brothers, the raucous laughter of Diavolo and Solomon, the yelping of Luke, and he’s sure he can hear Barbatos too. He then slowly opens his eyes, and in that moment all the affection he felt for you threatens to overflow. 

Perhaps it's time for him to finally embrace the shadow following behind.

[since0202]

Taking Time—Fifty Four

Home is a person

Word Count: 12,959

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Abortion (I will bracket where it starts and ends in an obvious manner so you can avoid if needed <3).

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every step home has felt right so far. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been away for so long, but it feels like something has changed or shifted. And as I get closer, that feeling only gets stronger. Now, as I sink into that undeniable warmth, it’s hard to think otherwise at all. Soft, warm breath spans gently across my hair and I reach for the warm body nestled next to me. It must be Paul. How he knew I was here, I’m not sure, but in the halfway point between sleep and wake, I’m not sure of much. The soft body grunts and rolls closer to me, making soft sounds that lull me deeper into sleep. I want it always to be like this: sleepy mornings, just peace, before the sun cracks me open like an egg and burns me from the inside out. 

Maya rolled toward the low rumbling groan coupled with that hardy warmth she’d come to know so well when she was home. Paul was so soft. She ran her hands up and down his sides to a pleasant smacking sound coming from his lips. She burrowed closer for warmth, still in that holy toss between dreaming and awake and felt his warm breath flow over her hair. It almost felt wet. Maya inhaled a deep breath savoring his smell only to be met with a warm mildewy scent of dried fur and the forest. He must have only just phased back from rounds and the smell of his wolf form simply clung to him. It didn’t matter. Maya leaned her head up and was met with the his soft, warm, wet lips. Really wet. He kissed and dampened her entire face with his mouth, his tongue. 

Maya leaned back and groaned her dissent, but the onslaught kept coming, possibly even more eagerly than before, until her entire face was coated in saliva. Paul really had it coming. Maya’s face twisted into a grimace as she opened her eyes, only to be met with the towering dark frame of Leah’s german shepherd. 

“Blegh!” Maya managed before the dog continued with vigor to her dismay. She braced her arms across his chest and tried to push, but the thumping of his tail wagging only seemed to make him stronger as he continue to cover Maya’s face in fervent licks with delight that she was awake. 

Maya heard a laugh from the door before Keye said,”Yodel, that’s enough. Come here!” Yodel immediately hopped off the bed and hurtled toward Keye, standing at attention at her feet with his tongue lolling to one side. Keye dropped her hand to stroke his head affectionately, “I thought we said no more kissing dogs after that trip to Seattle when Becks convinced that forty year old bouncer she was old enough to get in by her expertise?” 

Maya rubbed her dog-drenched face on the pillow before rolling over and beginning to rub her eyes, “I remember that being you, not Becks.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Keye replied lazily as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her until now.

“Come on, Leah’s making breakfast,” Keye stated from her place leaning up against the doorframe. As she plodded away softly, Maya heard Yodel following her dutifully down the small hallway to the kitchenette.

“Okay, but you still have a lot of explaining to do,” Maya called after her as she sat up and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. She didn’t even attempt a glance at her phone. The soft, gray morning light of Seattle pulled her eyes toward the window and Maya let out a soft sigh and let the day breathe her in.

Leah’s apartment was bright and airy. The kitchen and living room sat in a lofted space with high ceilings that allowed large industrial air ducts to span it. The bright beach wood of the rafters above seemed to capture light and sprinkle it down across the warm butcher block island where she was preparing another omelet, this time for herself, after making one for Keye and Maya. They tucked in around the island on carefully crafted wooden bar stools that Maya had a sneaking suspicion were the handiwork of her boyfriend. Maya peered over shoulder to look out the floor to ceiling narrow windows covered in a gauzy, white curtain. The living room was a collection of well loved, mismatched furniture pieces, all softened by time and use. 

Maya hadn’t fully recognized the neighborhood they were in when they drove in but she wondered how close they were to Paul’s workshop. Leah was laughing at Keye as she exclaimed how she’d never thought to add spinach to an omelet, or any vegetable to any dish for that matter, when Maya zoned back into the love fest unfolding before her. 

“You need to eat more vegetables, I keep telling you, or you’ll never be able to hold up a bike at a stop light. Even a little one,” Leah’s face was all sunshine. She tore off a piece off her omelet and handed it to a waiting Yodel at her feet. 

“She’s got a thing for bikes,” Keye hummed around a bite.

“I do not,” Leah tried to bemoan, but it only came out as soft embarrassment, her neck flushing with a hint of pink. That was hard to dispute considering Leah’s apartment was stationed above a bike shop. Her bike shop in fact. 

“Crotch rockets, some call them,” Keye quipped, shooting Maya a gleeful look.  

“Stop,” Leah replied breathlessly with a laugh, “They’re not called that.”

“She rode up on one to Seth’s wedding, what was I supposed to do? Not fall in love with her?” Keye goaded, shooting a bright smile in her direction. Maya lit up at this—she wanted to know everything about how Leah and Keye met, how the imprint happened. 

“So, it was at Seth’s wedding then?” Maya leaned onto the counter, trying to quell her excitement. Leah looked down at her omelet with a soft smile as if just recalling the memory overwhelmed her with joy. Keye blushed and shoved another bite of gooey omelet in her mouth. 

“Yeah, it was at Seth’s wedding,” Leah started softly, “Gah, I still can’t believe that little twerp is married. I swear I was helping him with his homework only last week,” she shook her head, still lost in her moment of nostalgia. 

“Uh, I’m pretty sure you were helping him with his homework last week, babe. You guys were debating the merit of classic authors still being considered the classic norm in a postmodern world in this very kitchen.” Maya giggled at that and Leah looked up at Keye with such soft eyes that Maya thought she’d explode on the spot. Keye held her gaze for as long as she could before blushing and looking back down at her omelet, playing coy while continuing to eat. 

Oh, so it was that kind of imprint. 

“Yes, we met at Seth’s wedding,” Keye continued for her after a few bites as Leah started cleaning up. Keye launched into the story like it was well known and been written down for years. 

She said it was instantaneous. Much like Maya and Paul had, Leah and Keye and locked eyes and that was it. But most of the guests had been distracted and the pack was thoroughly drunk on special Quileute brewed beer so no one was really paying them any attention. No one had even really realized, except for Keye and Leah. They had sat there and stared at each other, across the dance floor for a cool minute or two. It could have been eons for all Keye knew. 

Leah’s face, which had been schooled in a cool complacency for most of the night as she muscled through her baby brother’s wedding, had shifted to something bright and surprised. Breathless, she had strode across the dance floor in her pale cream suit, sparkling under the carefully hung lights as she weaved her way through couples. Her eyes never left Keye’s and Keye had stayed glued to the spot, her heart beating wildly. Nothing would stop Leah from getting to her, and as she startled to a stop in front of her, Keye let out a loud exhale as if breathing again for the first time. 

“It’s you,” Leah had said, so surprised yet relieved, “It’s you. Y-you…you are so…you’re my—,” 

“Keye,” she interjected, relieving the stuttering Leah. She held her hand out somewhat awkwardly, but it had felt like the only thing she could do. “I’m Keye,” she said again. 

Leah slipped her hand into Keye’s, not shaking it, but just holding it there for a moment before threading her fingers purposefully through hers and nodding. “Yes, you are.” Leah’s whole face brightened into one of incandescent happiness as light tears shone in her dark eyes. Keye was on the verge of losing it and letting this wave of joy rush over her and spill from her tear ducts. 

There she was.

Shortly after, Keye skipped town that night with Leah and sealed her fate. She just disappeared. No one even realized she was gone, and her parents just thought that she went back to campus early. Leah was prone to disappearing spells, so there was no connection made there either apparently. 

Maya’s head swum up out of the story and looked over at Leah who was leaning against the sink with her hands outstretched next to her, smiling softly at Keye. 

“And after I moved in, I took this semester off—” Keye continued after a moment.

“Wait what?!” Maya snapped out of it and jerked her head toward Keye, her eyes wide with shock.  

“My, come on,” Keye groaned, “What is it with you and school? It’s not that big a deal.” Keye said half heartedly. 

Just because Maya had a vice grip on school didn’t mean everyone else needed to maintain that level of intensity to make school an important part of their lives. Just look at what it did to her and Paul. She willed her body to relax as she shook her head, glancing quickly at Leah for any back up and finding none.

“No, no,” Maya tried backpedaling, controlling the features on her face to remain impassive, “I just mean, I didn’t realize! I should have realized.” 

Keye leveled her with an expectant stare, a small smile on her face. Maya was trying to keep her lips clamped shut so she didn’t ask the question she really wanted to ask. 

After about thirty seconds though, Maya burst: “But why though?!” 

So much for self control.

Keye couldn’t help but throw her head back and laugh. Leah looked on with a bit of concern on her face. 

“Sometimes, things just work out that way, My. But don’t worry, I’ll go back and finish up,” Keye proclaimed, “Just for you.” 

Maya smiled and shook her head. That soft concerned look was still pulling at Leah’s features as she continued to watch Keye carefully. 

Maya spent the day putzing around Seattle with Leah and Keye visiting some of their favorite local haunts. They even stopped in a few local bookshops and let Maya wander for as long as she liked. She discovered some old chemistry books that she fell in love with and was thoroughly brightened despite the low hanging clouds over Seattle as they walked down hidden side streets. 

The three grabbed lunch at a little sandwich shop not far from Leah’s bike shop. When Keye got up to use the bathroom, Maya casually stayed behind to Keye’s chagrin. Leah was trying to stuff the butt end of her meatball sub fully into her mouth, sauce dripping down her chin in an endearing way as she hunched her shoulders over the low table. 

Leah had been pretty tight lipped about her estrangement from the pack but now that Maya had her alone, she wondered if without Keye’s constant frown whenever the pack was brought up, she could ask her about it. 

“What?” Leah said around her mouthful. Maya hadn’t realized she had been staring, marveling even at this intensely, wonderful woman who had captured Keye’s heart and taken care of her best friend so completely. 

“Nothing, sorry, I—” Maya stumbled and ran a hand through her shaggy hair, frizzed by the gentle rain they had walked through to get here. Maya exhaled through her nose trying to gather her thoughts about how to ask but instead, Leah spoke: 

“You’re sure you want to go back?” Leah chewed valiantly and Maya couldn’t help but let her mouth hang open a bit in surprise. That wasn’t…. “No offense, but you seem torn. And I never try to make hard decisions when I’m on the fence.”

Maya closed her mouth abruptly and shook her head to try and clear any confusion that Leah could see in her eyes, “No, I…I need to go home. It’s time to go home. Not forever, but..just for now.” 

“Tortured him enough, then?” 

Maya’s eyes shot up to meet Leah’s in shock, but that feeling quickly faded when she saw that gleam of mischief in Leah’s eyes. She hadn’t meant it the way everyone else would have. 

“I guess,” Maya shrugged. “I do miss him, though.” That was an understatement.

“Of course you do,” Leah tucked back into the table scavenging chips from Keye’s plate. “Regardless of what you know, and regardless of what you feel, the imprint should always show you true north,” the sound of crunching chips perforated Maya’s concentration, “Or so they say.” 

“What do you think then? About the imprint, I mean, now that you have it?” Maya challenged. Leah took a moment, always thoughtful, never rash in her conversation. Just clear and true and decided. 

“I think the imprint is different for everyone. So if anyone tries to tell you what to do with it, you should take that with a grain of salt. Listen to what it says to you, trust that,” Leah shrugged. 

Maya paused at that and really tried to let that sink in. Everyone had tried to tell her what the imprint was meant to do, what it was based on legend. But it had been hard between her and Paul since the beginning. Some parts were easy, when they were just together and there was nothing else, but most other things were hard—harder than the other imprints at least. So much so, that Maya and Paul had wondered for a while if there was something wrong with them. 

“I will say though,” Leah’s voice suddenly turned serious. Maya met her eyes and was taken aback by the sheer intensity at which they bored into her, “While I don’t know how your imprint works, I do know Paul.” Maya gulped, “And I can say without a doubt in my mind that he loves you with every cell in his body.” 

Maya let out a sigh. She knew that of course and so she could only say as much, “I know.” Her voice came out hoarse. 

“But he’s also a bit of an idiot. Emotionally, I mean. The guy was abandoned by everyone when he was a kid and then was swallowed by anger for most of his adult life. He’s only found his way through in maybe the past five years. That’s still no excuse for how he’s been with you, but still. That man comes with baggage and I do not envy you that task of unpacking it all,” Leah brushed her hands together to get off the excess crumbs. 

There wasn’t enough that Maya knew about Paul’s past. He’d told her the basics, but she’d gotten more information about Paul’s dad from her own mother and that was a wobbly source. 

“Speaking of members of the pack,” Maya said quickly, “do you think you’ll ever come back to the rez?”

Leah let out a gentle laugh and shook her head, “Not unless they need me.” 

“Do they not need you now?” Maya quirked an eyebrow. Leah once again leveled her with that intense stare.

“Cute girls are always too brave for their own good,” Leah leaned back and stretched her arms behind Keye’s chair just as she slid back into it. 

“You guys can stop talking about me now,” Keye said dramatically as she shook her hair away from her face. She shot Maya a knowing look to which she rolled her eyes. 

Leah leaned forward just enough to kiss Keye’s shoulder and said softly, “Never, babe.” 

------------------------------------------

—-<<Trigger warning: mentions of abortion in this next section>>---

Maya and Keye cuddled up in the guest bed that Maya was sleeping in with a laptop between them that night watching an old 90’s vampire movie. Leah had disappeared downstairs into her shop to get some work done. 

As one of the main vampires looked out over a burning city, Keye readjusted her head on Maya’s shoulder as Yodel let out a soft sigh at the end of the bed. Somehow, it had felt like no time had passed at all. 

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Keye asked softly. Maya stared at the screen as she tried to reconcile her worry into something else. 

“I think so,” she breathed in and about before continuing, “It feels like the right time to go back. I don’t know how to explain it.” 

“True north,” Keye muttered softly. 

“Jesus, you guys really are in deep, huh?” Maya joked and Keye giggled. 

“I don’t know, probably. She was there for me when everyone was either busy or gone. I don’t think that was the imprint either, she just…knew I needed her and she stayed,” Keye was quiet. Maya’s heart rate picked up as she realized her mistake in shutting everyone out. Even if Keye had said that she had understood why Maya did it, she knew she had hurt people who didn’t deserve it for the sake of her own peace. Keye, and a lot of others deserved more than that. 

“Keye, I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should have stayed in contact, I know that. It all just felt hard and this was easier. But I shouldn’t have done the easy thing….not when it comes to you or Becks,” Maya scrunched in closer to Keye. 

“It really is okay, My. I get it. I disappeared too, you know. Just…tell us next time.” 

“I promise,” Maya breathed. “But I don’t plan on disappearing again. I didn’t even mean to fully disappear before, it was just….easier that way. But it wasn’t fair to your or Becks, so I promise.”

The vampire on screen looked wide eyed at the little girl who was drinking from an older woman. She looked so small, so innocent. Her too-young youth, eternally frozen in time. 

“I have to tell you something,” Keye breathed, her voice hitching at the end as if she was unsure. 

“What?” Maya said softly, looking down at the side of her face. Keye sat up and Maya turned toward her, realizing that her face was pulled tight with pain. “What is it?” she reached for Keye’s hands that were clasped tightly in her lap but pulled back when she flinched slightly as if being touched might be too much at the moment. “Are you okay?” 

“I am..I am. I really am. I need you to know that I am okay going into this,” Keye’s voice wobbled slightly as she sat up straight, before leaning back against the headboard. 

“You’re kind of scaring me, Keye,” Maya said slowly as she pressed pause on the movie and sat up too, crossing her legs in front of her and turning her whole body to face Keye. The looks that flitted across her face were hard to read but as Keye bit her lip, Maya knew this was something more. 

“I…” Keye began slowly, her eyes on her hands that fidgeted in her lap. Maya leaned over and covered both of her hands with her own. Keye swallowed hard, tears forming at the corner of her eyes but never falling before looking up at Maya. 

There was silence, strong and solid between them, and Maya just let it hang there to give her the space to say what it was she needed to say. 

“I left the rez because something h-happened,” Keye’s voice was quieter now and Maya listened carefully as soft rain started to patter on the windows above the bed. It was another few moments before Keye continued, “Colin and I were still dating and we were…things were going okay.” 

A cold feeling slid into Maya’s stomach, but she held her breath to keep from thinking the worst. 

“He and I were…well it doesn’t really matter, but things were going well and it was like…four days before Seth and Sadie’s wedding and I wasn’t really feeling good. Just kind of off you know?” Keye took in a breath and Maya heard the sound shudder through her, “And I…I thought that maybe I was…Fuck,” Keye wiped the tear that had escaped from the corner of her eyes and coasted down her cheek. 

“You were what?” Maya asked softly, concern laid plainly on her face. Keye tilted her head and gave Maya a knowing look as she frowned. Maya waited. 

“That I was pregnant,” Keye hiccuped softly and Maya let loose the breath. 

“Oh.” The word came out small and barely there. Just above a whisper. Keye stared down at her hands again, playing with the tips of Maya’s fingers. “Were you?” Maya prompted gently, leaning her head down to capture Keye’s eyes. 

Keye shut them tightly and the tears fiercely rolled now as she nodded. 

“Okay, okay,” Maya looked over her shoulder toward the door wondering if Leah knew…if she knew Keye was… Her gaze flitted over Keye’s body to try and discern how far along she was, but she looked entirely the same. “How far along are—”

Maya was cut off by Keye shaking her head slowly, as hot tears continued to roll down her cheeks. Maya furrowed her brow, confused. Everything was coming at her so fast and she was just trying to piece every part of the puzzle together but felt like she was missing information. When realization dawned on her, her eyes widened with sadness, “You lost it…” she breathed. “Oh, Keye—” Maya reached out to stroke her shoulder, scooting closer but Keye stopped her. 

“Not exactly.” Keye said, wetly. She swallowed hard and forced herself to sit up straight. Her eyes were harder now, and through the tears Maya thought she saw Keye watching her carefully for any reaction that would make her shutter completely. Maya’s mouth hung open again in momentary confusion before she said even softer, her breath barely a whisper, “Oh.”

She blinked rapidly as it all sank in. Of course. Maya kept her face neutral, soft, and open as she watched Keye watching her. Keye’s eyes flicked all around her face, trying to scan for any disapproval, or upset, and that made Maya worry that she had encountered some judgment from her circle. 

Maya reached out and grasped Keye’s hand softly in hers and gave her a soft nod, “It’s okay, Keye. That’s totally your decision.”

But Keye was silent, watching her as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maya let the air hang between them a moment longer before she said, “Do you want to tell me about it?” Keye grimaced. “Or tell me why?” Keye crumbled slightly at that. “Let’s start with an easier question… And you don’t have to answer anything at all if you don’t want to. But, I want you to know that any answer you do give is enough reason and enough justification for the decision you made.” Maya dipped her head to meet Keye’s eyes. Only then did she see her gaze soften with trust again. “It’s enough,” she reinforced. Maya tried to emphasize that love with her eyes as well and held Keye’s gaze. 

When Keye finally nodded, sagging with relief, Maya scooted closer so that their knees were touching, “When did you find out?” She wiped gently at Keye’s tears. 

“Just after I met Leah…Like I said, I hadn’t been feeling great up until Seth and Sadie’s wedding, but after I met Leah, it was like I needed to know, you know?” Maya nodded and just let Keye go. 

“I drove out of town to get a pregnancy test. That whole fucking tribe has eyes everywhere you know and I didn’t want to risk it getting back to…well, I bought three and I was in a fucking gas station bathroom in Beaverton with a full bottle of gatorade just…waiting for what felt like forever,” Keye stopped then and gulped down air. 

Maya was pushing her hair out of her face and stroking her thumb over her hand. “And then it was like…everything stopped you know. It was real…three times it was real. And I….I panicked,” Keye was looking around the room now, the guilt just absolutely pulling her in different directions. “I didn’t want anyone to find out. At least until I could just think for a bit you know. You know how they are about babies, if they had gotten wind that I…and it was Colin’s? No way, game over.” 

A fresh sob broke through Keye’s chest. She opened her mouth a couple of times to speak and couldn’t so Maya let her breathe through it, allowing her the space to continue or stop. But she carried on as if she needed to say it out loud, “I knew I didn’t want it, My. And I just felt….bad. I felt bad because, I don’t know…fuck I don’t know why should I feel bad, you know?” Maya just nodded. She understood guilt like that. “I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I couldn’t go back to the rez. And so I…I called Leah and she came and got me, no questions asked.” 

Thank god, Maya thought. Thank god for Leah, because Maya could just see herself so clearly mirrored in this same situation. She was so grateful that her best friend had someone like Leah to come and protect her the way she needed to be protected. 

“It took me a week to tell her. And she was just…ugh,” Keye reached for a tissue next to the bed and blew her nose before saying, “She was just perfect, you know? She knew just what to say and what to do and…” Keye’s eyes sparkled for a moment as she looked at Maya. Maya couldn’t help but give her a sad, knowing smile back. 

“Yeah, yeah, imprints are great,” she joked, rolling her eyes before squeezing her hand. Keye smiled sadly, looking down at their joined hands. 

“She told me that whatever I wanted to do, it was the right decision. And that I didn’t need to tell anyone if I didn’t want to, because it was my body. She was just…there. All the time for me. I-I don’t know if I could have done all this without her but…she held my hand through it all and I…” Keye looked up at Maya, her eyes sure and firm now, “I don’t regret it.” 

Maya shook her head, “You shouldn’t. That was your decision, and I still love you just as you are.” Keye smiled, bigger this time and nodded. 

“Still fucks with me though,” she said, resigned. 

“Yeah well, they never said being a woman would be easy,” Maya pulled her into a tight hug. Keye held on so hard, she thought her ribs popped, “I love you.” Maya breathed into her hair. 

For a while they just sat there, hugging, listening to each other breathe. Maya hoped her decisions 

— << end trigger warning>> ---

-------------------------------------------------------------

November, 1 year ago….

Go see the elders. 

Jacob’s voice echoed and roiled in Paul’s ears as he worked away at the lower deck in the back garden. The cool November air whipped round Paul as he worked at setting wood planks on his foundation. The chill did nothing to bring down his temperature though. Paul was running more than hot these days—he was constantly burning up, as if an unbreakable fever clung to him since Maya left. 

Left him. 

Paul stalled, his hands stilling on the wood as he closed his eyes tightly against his last memory of her, tear stricken and shaking her head at him. I won’t. She had said to him that she wouldn’t stay. Not for anyone, not even for him. And that tore him to pieces and set him on fire. And ever since, he’d been burning. 

Paul forced his eyes back open and worked to refocus them on that task at hand. Work on the house always gave him some temporary peace, but he could never truly escape that hollowness that deepened and ached, threatening to drive him mad before the first snow would melt. 

He couldn’t even bring himself to go on rounds at this point. But no one blamed him. No one even came looking for him. He chalked that up to Jacob, citing space, citing time, citing…whatever it was Paul was supposed to find during his time of abandonment. 

Because that’s what it was, anyway you shook it out, he was simply abandoned. Again. 

Go see the elders. 

Jacob’s voice persisted in his head, sounding firmer, angrier each time that Paul refused whether internally or externally. What would the elders do for him exactly? They got him into this mess in the first place. Setting unrealistic expectations, putting pressure on them, coaxing them along with arbitrary milestones. They wouldn’t let up with their pleading eyes and knowing conversations until Maya was pregnant. Jesus. Paul skated quickly away from that thought and continued working on the deck. 

Plus, what could the elders say to him now? Maya was gone, and all he could do was hope that she’d come back. A ripple of anger ran down Paul’s spine as he gritted his teeth. Suddenly he felt like he was six years old again, sitting on the stoop of his dad’s double wide as thunder promised rain overhead. Waiting for someone who might never return. He hated that feeling. And what he hated more was how that anger that he once thought was well and truly tempered began to roil viciously within him again. 

Go see the elders. 

Jacob’s tone turned into a rough growl in his head and Paul couldn’t stand it anymore. The hammer that had gone so still in his hand now shook and he reared back before hurling it with all his might without a care of where it landed. It connected with something far off, a tree perhaps, that shook its occupants free and had them flying off in a hurry. 

Paul let out a harsh breath as he tried to swallow the well of emotion building in him. If he was being honest, he hadn’t done so well since Maya had left. To be fair, that might actually be an understatement. As hot, unshed tears brimmed his dark eyes, he stood with his hands lightly rested on his hips. 

“Fine,” he said to no one in particular, “I’ll go see the elders.” Paul headed off in the direction of his lost hammer.

--------------------------------------------

The next morning, Maya and Keye stumbled into the kitchen together after having fallen asleep, exhausted from their conversation the night before. 

Today was the day Maya planned to return to La Push and she would be lying if she wasn’t a bit nervous. 

But, even more nerve wracking was Keye’s request to drive her into the rez. After last night, Keye had woken up feeling better, but she had told Maya sleepily that she needed to go home to fix some things too. 

It only made sense that she would come with her, but still, the thought of Keye having another conversation last night made Maya ache, especially if she wouldn’t be as accepted by the others—least of all the council. 

But Keye had assured her that Leah and her had talked about this and that she felt ready after unloading a little on Maya last night. She could do it and even more so, she felt like she needed to, to continue to heal and grow past it. 

Now, hunched over their individual bowls of cereal as Leah watched from her place leaned up against the counter, both women held an air of dread about them. 

Leah took a bite of cereal and said suddenly to Maya: “You know he’s going to know you’re there as soon as you cross the boundary, right?” 

At this, Maya couldn’t help a small shiver run through her. He’d know she was there, but what he would do about it was still up in the air. 

A few hours later, Keye pulled up the familiar, neatly paved driveway to the house. If it wasn’t for the familiar blue stone, Maya might not have even clocked that they were at her house. There’s been so much work done to it, almost as if someone frantically decided to build with unbridled purpose and determination.

“Holy shit,” Keye breathed as she looked through her windshield of Leah’s Subaru. They both sat in stunned silence for a moment, mouths slightly agape. Then Maya replied weakly, 

“Yeah.” 

The little blue house wasn’t so little anymore. 

“Did you know he was—uh,” Keye faltered to complete her sentence so Maya just answered:

“No. This is…” Maya was lost for words. 

“Yeah,” Keye breathed. Finally, she tore her eyes away from the house and looked over at Maya. “So, are you ready?” 

“Are you?” Maya said back just as hesitantly. Keye considered it for a moment and then just shrugged. 

“Yeah, why not?” She answered with a small smile. Maya exhaled a breath through her nose and nodded. Why not. 

She pushed open the door and stood slowly on the dark paved driveway that was dotted with solar lights that would guide her in at night. She grabbed her duffel bag and backpack from the backseat and shut both doors with purpose. 

Keye only pulled back up the driveway once Maya had opened the front door. But Maya stayed frozen on the threshold for a moment, marveling at what lay within. 

The quaint front entryway had been completely opened and transformed into a wide open expansive living room that wrapped around the staircase that was now exposed on either side. Off to the right of the living room where there had only been a stone wall before, Paul had put in a cozy office, the entryway was arched and held two driftwood french doors, the glass mingling perfectly with the hand carved wood. 

Maya peeked in, her eyes coasting over the back wall behind the raw edged desk that was packed books in the floor to ceiling bookshelves. An oversized, plush chair was nestled neatly next to the bookshelves and the bay window that looked out into the woods. A small iron fireplace had been installed in a free corner. It was…perfect for lack of a better word. 

Maya spun on her heel and carried on toward the back of the house. The kitchen had been further expanded, a large warm wood island stretched across the expansive green tile. New appliances had been installed, the cabinets fitted and hand carved with intricate designs to heighten the simplicity of the sleek and soft kitchen around it.

Someone had been busy. Maya wrapped her arms around herself and glanced across the space. It was all so beautiful and different. But it still somehow felt like her home. It held the exact warmth and memory as before, just opened more to welcome new memories. 

Outside the sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky into the late afternoon. She pushed aside the long sliding glass door and stepped out onto the deck. A hanging bed flocked in white gossamer curtains and shaded by a partially covered pergola hung seductively off to the side. The deck had been expanded to include three levels, each holding a different space to gather with cozy chairs, firepits, and hand carved weather-proofed wooden tables. 

The most impressive thing that she had seen thus far though was the renovated workshop. Paul had completely rebuilt it, expanded it, and settled it a little further back onto the neighboring property. It almost looked the size of his studio in Seattle now, but he had built the entire front with reclaimed antique windows so that she could easily see into the intricate workspace within.The beveled glass glittered in the winter sun and made the entire backyard sparkle. It even held a second story loft that looked out toward the ocean. 

The cold November breeze rolled over Maya and she took a deep breath. She knew the kind of frenzied state he must have been in when he started building all of this. As a distraction. To keep him from feeling that hollowing pain that she herself felt almost every day when she had left. It was heartbreaking what they’d done to each other. But there was no getting around it now. 

Still, the most surprising thing was, he wasn’t here. Maya looked over her shoulder back into the house. Maybe she could find the keys to her Jeep, now neatly tucked away in the newly built two-car garage in the adjacent lot that Paul must have purchased to make all of these renovations. 

With Paul nowhere in sight, she let out a long breath. She guessed she could go to Emily and Sam’s and look for him there. That’s what she needed to do—she needed to find him. 

------------------------------------------------

February, 9 months ago…

Paul stood on the aging and worn steps of the last elder front porch in the icy rain that was oscillating annoyingly into sleet. As he looked around the front porch, shirtless and drenched in cold rain that steamed off of him, he noticed the wood rot close to the house where the porch met and made a mental note to come back and repair it once the weather cleared. 

After a few more seconds, Elder Ti’Hal slowly pulled open the door, a wool woven shawl hanging heavy over her shoulders. Her bright white hair was braiding neatly into two plaits. 

Elder Ti’Hal was truly ancient. And Paul didn’t mean that in a negative way at all. She radiated the distilled essence and teachings of their tribe. She was an elder before Paul was even born and he’d never known her without her bright white hair framing her wrinkled, warm face. 

She still managed to move fairly quickly and with agility that wouldn’t normally be attributed to someone of her age, but that was the mystery of elder Ti’Hal. She also never attended council meetings or bonfires anymore, and instead preferred to stay in her quiet cottage in the forest that she had shared with her husband before his passing over two decades ago. 

“Paul Lahote,” she said softly. “To what do I owe this very wet appearance?” 

Paul scowled off to the side, his jaw clenching so hard he thought his teeth might crack. He hadn’t realized it, but he was breathing heavily, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort of it. When he didn’t answer she just nodded gravely. 

“Come in,” she walked back into her small, warm, wooden home and Paul only hesitated for a second in the cold rain before he ducked under the tiny threshold and entered. “Let me get you a towel,” she grumbled. 

“Don’t bother,” he said, his tone coming out harsher than he intended. 

“For my couch then,” she was already digging in the small linen closet and produced a worn, threadbare towel that she draped across her couch for gesturing to it. “Sit.” she commanded. 

Paul had forgotten how bossy the elders were. He trudged across the living room, careful not to trip on the woven Quileute rug before he slumped down onto the couch in a huff. A warm fire crackled off to his left and Elder Ti’Hal had disappeared around a corner into her tiny kitchen and was clanging around with a kettle. 

“Do you want to start or should I?” Elder Ti’Hal called from the kitchen. Paul was still breathing heavily, the ache in his stomach crescendoing to a harsh beat. He may have groaned painfully in response, but he was too distracted by the unrelenting pain the imprint was causing him. “Right,” Elder Ti’Hal came around the corner with two hand thrown mugs in her hand steaming with what Paul hoped was something stronger than tea. 

She handed him his mug and when he took a whiff, he nearly threw it begrudgingly into the fire. 

“What pains you today, Paul Lahote?” she began. Paul shook his head, trying to find the right place to start, but nothing came to him, so instead he said, 

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” she sipped slowly from her mug. 

“Call me by my first and last name. It’s not like you haven’t known me before I was born. Both names seem overkill don’t you think?” 

He shifted uncomfortably on the warm, plush couch as she leveled him with her gaze and took her time answering. 

“It’s more to remind you than me,” she said cryptically. Paul scoffed: 

“Oh believe me, I know who I am.” 

“Do you?” she replied quickly. Paul glared at her full on now and leaned forward, his mug still cradled between both hands. 

“She didn’t come home for Christmas. She didn’t come home for Seth and Sadie’s wedding. Nothing. Not a fucking peep from her,” he could feel the tension in his body snap, the anger flowing through his veins freely now. He trembled slightly—this wasn’t his first time having to channel unchecked rage through himself and he doubted Ti’Hal would appreciate him exploding into a giant wolf and shredding her comfortable living room to pieces. 

Instead, Paul glued his eyes to the fire, trying to let the anger move through him and then out of him to be consumed and burned away by the fire. But every time he breathed in, it felt like ash flooding his mouth, the embers of that anger still hotter than anything else within him. 

“What does one do with so much anger?” she posed the question suddenly. Paul looked up at her wide-eyed as if shocked by the fact that she could see it on him. He was naive to think that much anger wouldn’t still be palpable to someone as attuned as her. Paul rolled his jaw and sat staring at her, waiting for the anger to ebb, but it wouldn’t. 

Fuck. 

Elder Ti’Hal settled back into her large armchair covered in different soft, worn blankets. When it was clear he wasn’t going to respond, she glanced out the window, watching the rain settle into a gentle drizzle. 

“What do you think the imprint is, Paul?” her voice was warm with a gentle thrum to it like dried maize kernels pouring into a stone bowl. Comforting, consistent. It was maddening to say the least, so Paul continued in his aggravated tone, feeling the heat rise on his skin. 

“An anchor for packmates. A promise for imprints. It’s a reason to stay.” 

“Hmm,” she breathed, her eyes still on the window watching the rain make trails to the muddied window ledge. Paul huffed, rubbing his hands against his knees with impatience. A fucking waste of time, he thought as he clenched his jaw. “But it wasn’t reason enough for her to stay?” 

When her eyes slowly drifted back toward him, Paul looked ready to burst into flames. 

“Clearly not. I can’t go get her because I’ve been ordered to stay away, but also….she doesn’t want me to come,” his voice was quiet. He waited for her to speak again but she just stared at him sadly. A deathly calm rolled over him and he thought that if Ti’Hal didn’t say something soon, he might just give up and collapse in on himself like a dying star.

“What is it then? The imprint?” Paul asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. 

Ti’Hal smiled slowly, warmth creeping into her eyes as she tilted her head to the side and surveyed Paul thoroughly. She took her time before she finally said: 

“A choice.” 

Paul tried to quiet the tremors radiating through his body. If the imprint was a choice, then Maya had clearly not chosen him. Never. Not even from the start. The thought of it made his blood boil. His face twisted in rage before he spat out. 

“What the fuck does that mean? How is it a fucking choice when it’s supposedly pre-ordained from the ancestors? That makes no fucking sense, you know that right?” Paul was on his feet without remembering when exactly he stood up. His hands were curled into fists and his chest was rising and falling quickly. He needed to calm down. If he could just calm down he could…

Ti’Hal just watched him with that serene look on her face, as if nothing fazed her anymore and the anger of a full blown werewolf couldn’t even shake her. Paul tried breathing, closing his eyes, counting to ten, but nothing could quell this desperate anger that spiraled and felt like lead dropping into the bottom of his stomach. 

Why was it always like this? This anger? It was like a tide that he couldn’t escape. Like clockwork it would just rush over him and pull him under in seconds and there was nothing he felt like he could do about it. It was an exposed wire in his veins just ticking and twitching with so much heat and sharpness that he felt his skin would burn away and leave him exposed and vulnerable. 

 “Have you given her a choice?” Ti’Hal’s voice cut through the raging quiet like a whip, but her voice still remained calm. He tried to focus on that—that there was calm to be achieved and he could reach it. He could reach the shore if he just stayed calm. He was panting, losing his breath every moment he kept himself solid and here. 

“I thought I did…but I wasn’t given one either,” he thought back to the moment the imprint had happened. Seeing her there across the fire. It was like an instant salve to a long forgotten pain. And then in the next moment, he was all resistance and rage again. Nothing felt like a choice when it came to the imprint. “We…we didn’t have time to make that choice,” Paul tried to slow his breathing. Calm, in and out, just like the waves. Not sinking but drifting.

“Some see the imprint as a gift, but that’s also just a choice wrapped up in a nice bow, in my opinion. It is a choice, Paul Lahote. You’ve made plenty in your very short life so far, but it is one that you give to her and wait until she makes it. It’s a question, and not a command and it can take many forms. You’re part is making sure you ask her the right one,” she watched his body language shift ever so slightly. “Miss Sunriviere was told that you were her imprint, told that there was to be in a relationship, and then told what her life would most likely be, in so many words.” Paul opened his mouth to retort but she continued anyway, “You are her choice. So ask the question and be patient for once. And most importantly, be vulnerable to her answer,” Ti’Hal took a moment to sip her tea. Paul tried to let those words sink in. 

He was vulnerable with her. Her absence had nearly destroyed him, was that not vulnerable enough? 

“No, not that,” Ti’Hal responded as if she could hear his thoughts. Paul’s eyes widened. 

“What’s the question, then? The one I should ask?” Paul said desperately, his voice rasping as he realized he had been holding his body tensely throughout Ti’Hal’s speech. 

“Start with the answer you want and work your way back from there,” she gave a cryptic smile and stood, disappearing behind her kitchen door and singing softly to herself, unceremoniously excusing him. 

Paul stood there for a while longer, rapidly breathing, and listening to Ti’Hal singing the songs of his childhood in her kitchen, muffled and sweet.  ------------------------------------------

The door to her Jeep shut with a sharp click as Maya shrugged on her cropped puffy jacket. Much as she had suspected, the keys to Maya’s Jeep were in the sun visor, as if waiting for her. The whole drive to Sam and Emily’s felt…calm. As if she were driving toward something rather than into something. There was no sweeping dread, no overwhelming nervousness—she just felt ready. She chocked that up to just time. The time away had made her ready for home, refreshed her.

Sam and Emily’s looked the same as it always did—warm and inviting with a steady stream of smoke coming from the chimney. It was familiar and as she took in a deep breath, the cold November air spiced with pine and fallen leaves, with a hint of the salty Pacific sent a pleasant reassuring thrum through her body. 

Maya stood by her Jeep for a moment just taking it in, before the potential chaos—whether it would be angry or joyful—would be wrought on her. Just the quiet creak of the forest, a distant river rushing toward the sea, and muffled laughter booming from within the home. 

Maya took a deep breath and took a couple of steps forward, her feet crunching on the wet gravel. She hadn’t made it more than a few steps when the screen door opened and Paul walked out slowly onto the porch, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. Maya halted, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes met his. 

She braced herself for whatever awaited her, but still that pulsing calm spread through her. It all felt…alright. And she hadn’t felt that way in so long. She watched in for just a moment as he stood on the top step of the porch, his face neutral before it broke into an earth shattering smile. 

Maya could have sobbed at the sight of it. He sauntered down the steps toward and it took all of her self control not to break into a full on sprint to quickly close the distance between them. Somehow she managed a quick walk and nearly crashed into his body, but he held her fast, one arm coming out to wrap around her waist as his other hand cupped her jaw. He peered down at her, that warm smile still spilling sunshine in every direction and she stared up at him, eyes glittering with unshed tears. 

He shook his head lightly and smiled, as his thumb reached up to gently brush across her lower lip, parting them softly. 

“You came home,” he said gently, the emotion clearly wavering in his deep voice. Maya nearly crumbled at his touch. She was home. 

“Yes,” she said simply, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought it was…time,” she paused when he raised his eyebrows at her, a hint of humor and warmth in his eyes then quickly clarified: “For a visit.”

But this didn’t seem to faze him. He just nodded gently, humming in acceptance with that warm, pleased look on his face as he took her all in. There was a palpable vibration happening between them, what Maya could only assume was a physical manifestation of the imprint’s tension. 

The last time she had seen him on the rez  was over a year ago. And yet, time washed away and parted to let them stand there together again as if nothing had passed, as if this was any other day. Comfortable. 

Maya’s hands shook she gripped the sides of his abdomen. She’d come all this way to say….to say what exactly? Her mouth parted softly but nothing came out. She needed to say something, anything. The silence stretched between them and Maya just couldn’t let it hang there any longer. How could she? After he had left her in that hotel room, and how it had felt coming home again—she needed to tell him everything. 

He was tall, god so tall, he towered over her really, and yet she felt like his matching pair. 

“Welcome home,” he said gently, his nose nuzzling hers gently. 

Maya looked up at him curiously, her eyes slightly narrowed as she took him in. His dark beard was closely trimmed to his face, and his hair was a bit shorter than the last time she saw it. He looked good. Well, he always looked good, but this was different. 

His eyes seemed bright, not clouded with the anger or jealousy she had seen back in the spring. No, this Paul felt solid, for once. The light was shining on his face, his color back to its warm russet, flush with heat and health. Everything felt simpler. 

And with the confusion and despair that had once clung to that hollowness in her stomach from the imprint’s ache clearing completely, she felt like she could see clearly for the first time in awhile. She was worried momentarily that maybe it was just the trick of the imprint, beckoning her in—a salve to her burning anxiety. 

But staring up at Paul, there was an openness there that hadn’t been there before. Something that she wanted to discover and ask him about. For now though, as his hand slowly threaded into her hair and pulled her close, this was all that she needed. 

Finally, after watching her with such intensity, such heat, as if trying to rememorize every part of her face he lowered his head toward hers and crashed their lips together. It was like coming up for air after swimming beneath a current for too long. His kiss pressed new life into her and she arched her body fully into his, her curve slotting into the shape of his body just so as he held her against him. 

Paul moved his mouth over hers, slow and wanting, washing the ache of their absence away. There was no succumbing this time, just an equal measure of elation at being together again, and Maya felt that familiar sensation of something clicking into place and she saw it for what it was: being in the right place at the right time. 

She sighed into his mouth and heard him give a soft groan of pleasure before the air rang with the hoots and howls of his brothers. He pulled back gently, his eyes hooded and soft as he looked at her. Paul glanced over his shoulder at his pack crowded onto the porch and gave a gentle laugh before looking back, his eyes shining with something new as he said gruffly, “I guess they missed you too.” 

Maya swallowed thickly and laughed, not willing to let go of him first. But he took her cue and said, “Come inside, I’m sure they all have a million questions.” Paul kissed her forehead before turning and slotting her neatly into his side as they walked the short distance to the porch. 

“Hey, hey Ivy League!” Jared crooned. 

“Welcome back, My,” Seth said softly. 

“We needed a little more brains around here,” Colin laughed as Brady shoved him lightly. 

“Maya?!” a soft, female voice floated out from the front door as Maya and Paul climbed the porch steps. Becks pushed her way through the pack crowded on the porch and started sobbing instantly upon seeing her. She was heavily pregnant, and Jacob wasn’t far behind her as she nearly dropped into Maya’s arms in a hug, squeezing her so tightly she thought she cracked a rib. 

“Oh my god!” she cried into her shoulder. Maya chuckled and rubbed soft circles on her back as she looked over her shoulder at Jacob who shrugged and looked lovingly at his hormonally devastated wife. Becks pulled back to look at Maya, her face puffy and tear stricken, “You absolute JERK!” Maya barked a laugh at that and tried to wipe some tears away from Becks’ cheeks. “Don’t ever disappear on me like that again. I thought— I thought—,” 

“I know. I’m sorry,” Maya said, pulling her best friend back into a hug. “I should have texted.” Becks hiccuped a sound of disapproval, “Or called.” Maya corrected. When she pulled back, Becks nodded, seemingly trying to get herself calm as Jacob settled a hand on her lower back. Maya’s eyes widened as she took in just how pregnant she was. 

“Yeah, I know,” Becks said disappointed, “He’s like a week late.” She truly looked exhausted and the size of her belly stretched to almost painful extent. Jacob rubbed her back and leaned down to kiss her temple. 

“He’ll come soon, babe,” he promised. “Plus, Maya’s here. That’s literally all the good luck we need to induce your labor. Like last time.” 

Maya laughed again and shrugged, “Just no vampire delivery this time, right?” she quipped. Jacob rolled his eyes. 

“Jesus, I hope it doesn’t come to that. But, Carlisle is on standby if the water birth stalls or we need quick intervention,” Jacob said nonchalantly. 

“What the fuck is a water birth?” Brady whispered to no one in particular. 

“Come inside, come inside,” Becks waved a hand and with Paul’s hand on her waist gently, Maya let the warm, comforting Uley home swallow her up. 

They stayed at Sam and Emily’s until late in the evening, laughing and swapping stories. Paul stayed next to her, his presence relaxed and content, which was so unlike the tense and overwhelmingly protectiveness he had always exhibited before she left. 

She glanced over at him a couple times, and each time, he caught her eye and gave her a smile. One that promised nothing but exactly what he was in that moment. And it made her…happy. 

When she started to yawn, Paul took that as an opportunity to lean over and whisper softly against her ear, “Let’s go home.” 

Maya nodded immediately and they said their quick goodbyes to those remaining there, promising to come back tomorrow for lunch and babywatch. 

When they pulled up to the house in Maya’s Jeep, she couldn’t stifle her laughter quickly enough before Paul looked toward her amused and said:

“You don’t like it?” he asked, not even a little offended. If she didn’t know any better, there might be a slight teasing tone to his voice.

“No, no! It’s beautiful, I—,” she shut her eyes tightly to quell the rising emotion in her stomach from burning behind her eyes for too long. “It’s beautiful, Paul. You’ve clearly been busy, but I’m not sure why you did all this work.” Liar, the voice inside her quipped. 

The corner of Paul’s mouth pulled up in a smug grin beneath his closely trimmed beard, “Bullshit,” he replied, maybe to that voice in her head. Maya blushed and shook her head at the soft teasing tone. 

They hopped out of the car and came around the front into each other’s sides, arms weaving effortlessly over each other’s waists like magnets pulled them together, as they walked toward the house.

“Well, why else would you feel the need to renovate our entire house? It’s not like we needed to. The house was…fine, before,” she swallowed a gasp on the last two words as Paul confidently reached for her hip and tugged her closer, pulling her body flush with his. He stopped her, his other hand came up to rest on the side of her neck and threaded through her hair at the  nape of her neck.

He chuckled and Maya felt the warm rumbling vibration of it stumble through her body and land in her belly. “Shut up,” he said with a gentle smile. Maya couldn’t help her returning grin before she quickly wiped it from her face. 

“Seriously, if this is what happens every time I leave, I’m going to have to have someone confiscate your power tools,” his warm breath fanned across her face as he sighed, his eyes dancing around taking her all in in this light. How did he do that? Look at her like he was seeing the most incredible thing he’d ever laid eyes upon for the first time, and yet, the familiarity of his gaze said he’d known her forever, lifetimes before even. She let her hands rest on his chest now as she looked up at him. 

“I forgot how much of a little shit you are,” he teased.

“Me?! Really, you're a menace to homes everywhere—” Maya was cut off as she shrieked with delight as Paul growled, squeezing her hip and biting her neck, his rough stubble tickling beneath her chin as he backed her over the threshold of the house and kicked the door shut behind him. 

Once inside, he grabbed her under her thighs and carried her effortlessly up the stairs toward their bedroom, his mouth never leaving hers. Maya wrapped her arms around his neck, letting herself sink deeper into the kiss. Nothing was hurried—for once. 

When he lowered her gently onto the bed, his hands coasted across her thighs and unbuttoned her jeans. He peeled them off her slowly, kissing down her body and pausing to press an open mouthed kiss to delicate V between her thighs. Maya watched him, her eyes hooded with desire as he took his time kissing back up her bare legs once her jeans were discarded, pulling her shirt up now and peppering the expanse of her belly with warm pecks. 

Maya sighed, a small moan escaping as made his way up between her breasts, swiftly pulling her shirt up over her head and burying his face in her neck, the stubble scraping against the soft skin and making goosebumps rise across her breasts. 

Paul was slow and methodical in how he worshiped her, his hands touching every part of her, pausing to measure just how well she fit in his hands. Maya felt it too and an overwhelming sense of contentment rushed through her. The imprint bond that normally rang so clear through her during a time like this was completely silent. She didn’t pay it much mind though as Paul quickly unsnapped her bra and pulled back the delicate lace before encasing her nipple in his mouth. Maya’s back arched off the bed and Paul’s hand traced the shape of it. 

His thigh nestled neatly between her legs and Maya couldn’t help but seek friction desperately there, grinding down on him and rolling her hips as he tugged gently at her nipple with his teeth, biting softly across the swell of her chest to her other breast. 

Maya was panting with desire, rolling her hips as her eyes flutter shut to simply exist in this moment with him. She heard the soft swish of his t-shirt coming off and the familiar hum of his zipper. When she opened her eyes, he was standing and discarding his clothes, fully naked at the end of the bed and he simply looked—gorgeous. Maya’s breath caught in her throat as she leaned up to look at him. His throat bobbed in equal adoration as he leaned over her, his fingers ghosting across her hips and slowly slipping her panties down her thighs. He kissed her bent knee as he slipped the lacy garment over it and when she was fully naked beneath him, he let out a well deserved sigh. His eyes raked in every inch of her as if drinking her in. Maya was propped up on her elbows, her eyes softened as she slowly let her knees drop to either side, baring herself to him. 

She was already dripping—she knew that. Paul licked his lips and kneeled between her, not wasting anymore time as he bit gently on her thigh before leaning in to devour her. His tongue, flat and warm, seemed to touch every part between her thighs and Maya threw her head back, letting out a sharp moan. He let her settle on his tongue, tasting her, relishing her scent, as he held her there, his hands anchored firmly on her hips. His mouth sucked and pulled at her clit, his tongue darting into her opening, as a groan rumbled from his throat and through her body. 

Maya was cresting, light bursting behind her eyes as she whimpered through her release. She twitched against his tongue and only then did he lean up, his eyes glazed with lust and love so intertwined that she thought she’d melt into the mattress. 

Paul ran his hands over her body again, reverently, as if to prove something to himself and Maya shivered. The ache growing inside of her was present, persistent, but he leaned down slowly, taking her mouth over his and she sighed into it. Their breath mingled, mixing, and Maya felt like she was coming home all over again. 

He wrapped his arm down around her back and shifted her up the bed, but before she could settle onto the pillows, he whipped her over him and Maya straddled his abdomen. Her eyes sparkled, and she couldn’t help but smile. Paul almost always preferred to have her beneath him when he claimed her, but in this moment, his eyes shone with a desire to see her claim every part of him. 

Maya let her hands run down his chest, memorizing the hard expanse, the ripples and lines that made him strong and immovable. His chest rose and fell in quick breaths as if her fingertips were tracing some new pattern of love into his skin. Maya slowly traced over each dip and line of muscle, her eyes trained to each small freckle or scar, taking him all in. 

His hands gripped her hips tightly, kneading the soft flesh that creased between her hip and thigh and she smiled. “You are torturing me,” he rasped, his eyes dark and desperate. Maya glanced up at his face and just smiled softly. 

“I’m just remembering,” she replied barely above a whisper. Paul pressed his thumbs into that delicate crease where her hips met each of her thighs and pressed. A shot of lightning struck between her legs and a soft gasp fell from her lips. 

“Remembering what?” he asked, so soft, so gentle. A sweet juxtaposition to the hard bodied, giant man that lay wanting and ready beneath her. Maya’s fingers paused over where his heart lay thumping wildly in his chest. 

“What it feels like to come home,” she replied, as she lifted her hips and pressed him against her center. She slid down onto him slowly, feeling the warm stretch of him. A feral groan ripped from Paul as she sank onto his hilt, her hips neatly connected to his. She feel his hands flex as they gripped and loosened on her thighs. Maya braced herself on his stomach, taking in deep, stuttering breaths as she tried to get used to the sheer size of him again. As he twitched inside of her, she let out a soft “Ah!” as she clenched around him. She was so sensitive. Being fully in control had set her body alight and Paul waited for her to move, groaning each time she inadvertently squeezed him inside of her. 

When she lifted slightly, Paul braced her between his hands, helping to raise her hips. His eyes were glued to where they connected as the sheen of her slick coated every exposed inch of him. Maya raised herself halfway up his shaft before slowly settling back down onto him working herself into a slow and languid pace. 

Maya watched his eyes, sharp and dark as they took in every bit of movement. He was in absolute awe, completely taken by the shape of her and Maya felt completely in control. 

Her mouth hung open in unadulterated want as she quickened her pace on top of him. Rolling and sliding her hips against him. Paul’s hands tightened and loosened of their own accord as if he had to remind himself to let go a little so he wouldn’t bruise her. 

With each roll of her hips, that ache was replaced with warm relief and she felt a whole body shiver rush through her as Paul started chanting her name. She needed him closer, as she felt her tits swell and ache from her impending release. As if he heard her, Paul leaned up, connecting their bodies. His chest pressed flush against hers, but Maya didn’t stop bucking her hips against his. Paul wrapped his arms around her body, nipping along her collarbone, his moans echoing across the room as Maya threw her head back, panting and cursing. 

She felt him release first, and it took her over the edge. Paul’s eyes were closed tightly as he shuddered through his release and Maya curved in on herself as she let go, her body clenching to him tightly with wave after wave of pleasure as if she was trying to rinse herself through. 

Finally, she collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily into the crook of his neck. He placed a hand behind her head and stroked gently, kissing her temple as he tried to slow his breathing. 

Still, the imprint was silent. Maya wasn’t complaining, it was just…strange. 

“Welcome home,” he breathed. Maya chuckled and buried her head in his neck as she let sleep overtake her in one fell swoop

The next morning, Maya awoke slowly. She was keenly aware of Paul’s body behind hers, his arms wrapped lightly around her waist. Rain pattered gently on the windows and she had to admit that she hadn’t felt this content waking up in a long while. 

Paul stirred gently behind her, kissing her shoulder as Maya rubbed her hand over his forearm. They stretched into one another, Paul groaning sleepily as she turned in his arms. 

“Good morning,” he said gently, his eyes barely open. Maya bit her lower lip and smiled. 

“Morning.” 

“Do you have plans today?” he asked nonchalantly. Maya quirked an eyebrow and stifled a laugh. 

“No, I don’t think so. These are my plans, what about you?” she said in only a slightly teasing tone. 

“Yeah, I want to show you something,” he opened his eyes fully now, looking down at her and Maya looked at him carefully. Not a bit of hesitation in those eyes, she noticed. “Will you come?” 

“Sure,” Maya breathed. She didn’t know why but her stomach erupted with butterflies. He gave her a warm smile and closed his eyes again pulling her closer as he settled back into sleep. 

Later that afternoon, once the rain had stopped and Maya was bundled in her heavy winter coat and rain weathered hiking boots. Paul was dressed simply in jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair neatly coiffed to the side as if he had tried to tidy it up just a little bit. 

Paul drove them into the woods and parked in a clearing. He led her through the forest and they walked for nearly an hour along sloping pathways and fern covered earth. Paul carried her over fallen trees and helped her down rain slicked slopes until the pathways went decidedly up and up. 

“Where are we going?” Maya laughed as she breathed in the briney air, her cheeks flushed red with heat and exertion. Paul looked back at her over his shoulder and squeezed her hand. 

“Almost there,” he reassured her. 

Once they broke through the treeline, Maya knew where they were headed and her heart began to race. 

It was the cliff from her dream all those years ago. Where the wolf had beckoned her forward. 

“Paul what are we—” she began as they started up the slope of the cliff. 

“When you were gone, I went and saw the elders,” he began not looking at her. Maya stopped and her hand fell from his. 

“Oh?” she couldn’t say that that filled her with the reassurance she was hoping for. The elders had been incredibly intrusive throughout their relationship. “What for?” she probed. 

Paul took a few more steps forward toward the jutting edge of the cliff that pulled out over the water. “I was looking for advice and they didn’t really offer me much…until I saw Ti’Hal,” Maya’s eyes widened at that and she followed him a couple steps onto the cliff. 

“Ti’Hal?” She was shivering, not from the cold but from something else. Nerves? She couldn’t place it. No one ever went to Ti’Hal. She was the tribe’s oldest advisor, never came to council meetings anymore, and was a recluse for lack of a better term. Still, she was revered within her community and if you did seek her out, there needed to be a very good reason. She didn’t give away her time easily. 

Paul looked out over the cliffs, the wind whipping around him as he put a hand in his pocket. “I was trying to figure out what to do about us.” Maya’s stomach dropped at that. Paul still didn’t look at her and she felt like she was waiting for other shoe to drop, “I was miserable without you Maya, I think you know that.” 

“Paul—” Maya tried again. 

“No. Let me get this out,” he breathed harshly, turning to look at her finally, his eyes were burning. “Let me, please.” He nearly begged. Maya swallowed hard and nodded. He looked out again for a couple of heartbeats before he continued, turning to look back at her but staying close to the cliffs edge. 

“I was miserable without you. I had no idea what to do about the imprint, how to get you back. It was driving me insane. Actually insane. I didn’t phase back for a few months because I couldn’t handle being without you and lending myself to that animal side was simpler. But that started to make everything worse….I felt like..I was dying without you. And that terrified me.” 

Indeed his eyes were pained and dark and Maya thought the pain of it would reach out and shatter her. That the imprint would begin to tug her closer. But it didn’t. It was odd. 

“I just wanted it all to stop. If you wanted to stay away, be without me, I wanted you to have that and for me not to feel this way anymore. So, I tried to figure out the bond the imprint made. At one point I even asked…I even considered…trying to break it,” his voice was so defeated and Maya couldn’t help a soft sob from escaping her throat at the thought of it. “I was in so much pain, I just…” 

Maya took another small step forward and he continued, determined. “Still, the elders had no advice. The imprint would pull you back to me. There would be no other option but that. And then I saw Ti’Hal. I realized after talking with her that I got the imprint all wrong. I got us all wrong,” his eyes were hard now as they looked past her, through her. 

Was this some sort of sick joke? Fear shot through Maya as she thought the absolute worst. 

“Paul, wait,” Maya said, holding her hand out. 

“No, My,” he shook his head, “Let me finish.” 

“I don’t want you to,” she nearly had to yell over the wind, “Please, let’s just go home.” 

Paul shook his head, a smile now bursting over his face and Maya had to swallow her tears to keep from letting the panic sink in. 

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he said gently. Maya’s eyes widened and she took a step forward. Please don’t let it be bad. “I realized that because of the imprint and because of what everyone thought it meant, you were never given a choice in all this. I was never given a choice in all this.” Maya started to shake her head to stop him, to make him listen, he couldn’t leave her like this. It wasn’t fair. 

“Please,” she choked. 

“I decided I wanted to make a choice in all this. And you deserve one too,” his eyes on her were hard. And he took one step forward but then, he shrank from her eyeline getting onto both of his knees. He was actually kneeling before her, his hand now out of his pocket holding something. “I want you to choose me because it’s what you want. I want a life with you and I want us to create that together. Not because of the imprint or because of what is expected. But because you love me and I love you. I want…I want so bad to marry you, My. Will you marry me?” 

The shiny glimmer of tears caught in the corners of his eyes as he stared up at her. Maya took the last few steps toward him slowly, her mouth open in shock as tears flowed freely over her cheeks now. The ring glittered in his hands, a large oval shaped diamond set in a delicate gold band. Maya was crying completely now, the tears beginning to blur her vision and she couldn't quite catch her breath.

“Will you—” he tried again but Maya cut him off quickly. 

“Yes, yes I will! Yes, Paul. Yes,!” she sank to her knees before him and he tugged her forward, kissing her through her tears as the waves crashed and roiled below them. 

Next > >

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Halloween ask even though Halloween ended. Imagine Vil being someone important for the vampire such as a king or something like that and he fell in love with a human! So he send Rook to capture them, buy obviously reader fight back and Rook has no other choice but to break both of their legs. While going back to Vil, Rook realize something, it's not fair that Vil will be the only one to enjoy this beautiful human so Rook decides to convince Vil to share reader ><

YES YES YES I CAN ABSOLUTELY DO THAT

(sadly, this didn't turn out quite the way I wanted it... sorry if it disappoints you)

Warning(s): kidnapping, you get both your legs broken, they're both yandere but moreso Rook

"Rook, come here... I need something." Vil was feeling very conflicted recently.

There's a town near the mansion in the forest. Vil sometimes walks through the town to scope out potential... sacrifices. With an umbrella in his hand, he'll walk through the town, searching for beautiful humans to drain the blood of once night falls. Beauty is wasted on humans, before long they'll decay... it's almost cruel to give them such beauty.

Though, one day, as he was searching for humans to drain, one bumped into him. They apologized immediately, multiple times... and Vil saw their face, it was... beautiful, almost in an ethereal way, almost as if they were a vampire, but they were clearly walking in the daylight, unharmed.

"Oui? Whatever could you need, Vil?" Rook asked, bowing before Vil.

"I met a human a while ago- (Y/N), I believe their name was. I want you to bring them to me."

"If you allow me to, may I ask why?"

"...I've fallen in love with them."

Someone knocked on your door.

You didn't want to stop reading your book, but you're a... shall we say, polite person. You reluctantly put your book down, and walked to the door.

The man standing there... he was wearing a floral pattern suit, a black hat with a black feather, and a cape... his hair was short and blonde, and his eyes were a bright green.

"Greetings, ma chéri. May I come in?" He asked.

"What? N-no! Who are you?" You asked, not wanting to let a complete stranger in your home.

"Ah, of course, my apologies for not introducing myself to you... my name is Rook Hunt, and I have some... important business to speak to you about~"

"...what kind of business...?" You cautiously asked.

"May I come inside?"

"I already said no! Just tell me what's going on here!" You demanded.

"Goodness, such defensiveness!" Rook looked surprised. "I assure you there's no reason to be frightened, chéri! As I said, I simply wish to talk with you, is that so much to ask?"

"W-we can talk like this." You told him. "You don't have to come inside."

"In that case, perhaps you would like to come outside." Rook suggested. You shook your head to tell him 'no way am I doing that'. "Ah... well, I suppose it is what it i-" Rook stopped for a moment. "Is that a ring?"

"Hm? Oh! Um, yes, it is." You said, looking at the ring on your finger.

"May I see the ring closer?"

"Oh, sure." You said, not seeing any harm in it.

Rook grabbed your hand, closely examining the blood-red ruby gemstone that adorned it.

And then he pulled you outside.

"You see, my dear, he has quite the liking to you as of late." Rook explained. "He personally asked me to bring you to him."

You immediately knew something was wrong, so you tried to get away, but Rook's grip on you was... inhuman.

"My my, what's wrong?" He asked. "You have no reason to be scared. In fact, you should be delighted! Vil Schoenheit, prince of vampires, has fallen in love with a human such as yourself! You should feel lucky..."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Vampires?! No, that can't be true! Your town has many legends of them, and people do disappear under mysterious circumstances often, but... vampires can't be real...! Right?

"Ah, poor human, dazed, confused, not understanding their situation..." Rook lamented. "You struggle, even though a being higher than yourself has fallen in love with you... I wish I could understand the mind of a human..."

Rook tried to drag you away. He tried to bring you to what is certainly your death. You fought back despite the fact that you knew he was much stronger than you, you tried to get away from him, you tried to survive.

"Quelle bêtise..." Rook sighed. "Why do you continue resisting?" He pushed you to the ground and grabbed your legs. "Believe me, I would much rather not use violence, but... I suppose it is necessary..."

The pain was almost unbearable.

Both of your legs were broken, Rook was dragging you along with him as if he didn't even care about the pain you were in.

He had a tight grip on your ankle, you were lying on the ground as he pulled you along. You felt every bump in the ground, every tiny stick, every little seed, bugs were for sure biting you, what an awful night.

Your legs smelled of blood.

Rook found it increasingly hard to ignore. No vampire could truly ignore the scent of blood, no matter how strong their willpower is... so every now and again, Rook would look back at you to remind himself that this human was for Vil and Vil alone.

But eventually... he saw something in you. He realized you were exactly as beautiful as Vil had said. You were an enigmatically beautiful human...

It's unfair that Vil gets to have you all to himself.

"Vil, I have brought you your human." Rook bowed. "They are in the guest room. Unfortunately, they resisted quite a lot, and I regrettably had to break both of their legs. I'm very sorry."

"Well... I suppose the important part is that they're here now." Vil said. "You said they're in the guest room? I'm going to go see them."

"Ah! Before you do, may I suggest something?"

"...what is it?" Vil asked, glaring at Rook.

"Perhaps we can share the human?" Rook said. "While bringing them here to you, I realized that I felt the same way about them as you described." He explained. "A feeling I can only describe as love."

"And your solution is to... share them?" Vil asked.

"Yes. It's better than the alternative of them being oh so horribly lonely all day when you have important businesses to attend to, isn't it? And wouldn't it be better to have them be watched over every day? If not, then they could attempt escape! Though, I'm not sure why they would... they should realize they're in quite the lucky position!"

"I guess I'll take you up on your offer. I know if I don't you'll just keep whining about it..."

With a pair of broken legs, you were completely at their mercy. Whatever they do to you, you'll just have to bare with it.

Whatever they choose to do to you, you can't do anything about it.

You're theirs, now and forever.

[yahuuchan]

killugon head canons

A/n: i tried my best to do the most accurate headcanons. If there is anything wrong about the headcanons don't hesitate to share your thoughts!

Contains both !NSFW and fluff!

Both killua and gon will be the big spoon or little spoon it depends on their mood.i saw people arguing about this. Killua will be the big spoon if he needs to hold gon in his arms if he want to feel safe and protected he will be the small spoon. he honestly don't mind, same goes with gon he doesn't care as long as killua is with him.

Killua blushes everytime gon compliments him, hug him or giving himself small kisses on cheeks or nose.

Killua loves to watch and adores him when gon blabbers something about what he did and what he like to do and on and on.

To be honest they both will probably have the same physique and aesthetics in their body when they are older. I don't like people comparing who is muscular and who has a more slim body.

I believe killua will be taller when he is older and gon will be the shorter one.

Gon will make a flower crown and put it on killua head.

Killua loves to watch gon sleeping peacefully it may sound creepy but to him it's not.

Killua would piggy back gon and run around using godspeed they both would love to do it especially gon.

Killua has a huge praise kink.

Gon loves when people praise him using the word "good boy" especially when killua uses it.

When killua sharpens his nails gon would be so tempted to paint killua nails using black colour because killua prefers black.

Killua has piercing in his left and right ears.

Gon thought his piercings are so cool and wanted one too.

Killua would grow his hair and it will look like silva's hair.

Gon and alluka wants to braid killua's hair.

Gon wanted to touch killua's abs

Gon has thick thighs (believe me he really do)

Gon would often put his hair down because killua thought it looks good with his hair down.

Gon loves killua scent so much

Go would often steal killua's hoodie and killua will act like he is mad about that but he secretly loves it.

Gon would love to lean on killua's shoulder when he gets tired. killua would be too embarrassed to do it after some time they would change with killua leaning on his shoulder because he find irritating when gons hair poking on his cheek.

Gon would pin killua but if he gets too far and get on killua's nerves killua would be the one to pin him and will tickle him to death.

Killua would beg gon to give him a makeover and change his clothing style but gon doesn't understand what's wrong with his green outfit.

Killua will manage to convince him and take him to a mall and he will pick new clothes for him however gon doesn't like any of it. Killua has a nosebleed seeing gon with new different types of clothes he takes a picture of gon.

Killua would smack gons ass in public however he is not embarrassed to do that.

Killua would also slap gons ass when they're at home too he will do it whenever he gets a chance to. Gon would let out a whine of frustration, killua would put on a sly cat grin seeing gons reaction wanted him to tease him more.

Gon would take killua on a date mostly camping, picnic in the forest and he would give him gifts like matching bracelets. He would also pick some wild flowers on their way and give to him, killua would be so flustered but he is so happy with the date.

Okay now with killua. He is not good at planning dates mostly gon will do it (since he has a experience in going on dates with older ladies) But this time killua will definitely need to take his lover somewhere amazing. He would search on the internet at night when gon was sleeping, after hours of searching he would finally come up with the best idea he have. Killua will take gon on a big fancy restaurant and his gifts would be really expensive he just doesn't know what to buy him and would probably end up with a really expensive gift. But in a date flowers are must. He would him buy him a bouquet of sunflowers after knowing that sunflowers are his favourite. Gon would probably be worried of spending so much money on him but killua will ensure that he doesn't mind spending money especially on his lover as long as gon is happy killua will be too.

Killua will accidentally call mito as "mom" as she heard this she will instantly starts to cry. Killua won't understand why...

Killua is a jealous man if he sees someone hanging out with him or being close with him...they would instantly feel a dark aura surrounding them and would have to meet a cold glare from him.

Gon would rarely get jealous but if he does...he would stare at the person up and down silently judging them. He would put on a red puffy cheeks it was most adorable thing killua would see.

Gon LOVES cuddles he would always want to cuddle with killua whenever he gets a free time with his lover. Killua won't complain instead he was more than happy to cuddle with him. He would hide his blush by burying his face in the crook of gons neck.

Gon loves to pet killua's fluffy hair

Gon loves PDA he doesn't mind it as long as it's just holding hands and hugging him they won't do anything far than that. Killua is not a PDA person, he will be so red when gon does something.

They loved to watch slime videos at midnight while eating cheetos.

Gons legs are smooth and squishy

Killua's hands are soft..not bad for an ex-assassin.

Killua will stare at gon when he is not looking. He looks at him with the most lovable way like there is no tomorrow

Killua would cover gon with blanket if he sees gon fell asleep on the couch.

Gon and killua weakness is tickling them.

Gon would sit on killua lap and talk about his day.

Killua will caress gons thighs (when they're in relationship only)

Killua is a pervert. We all know that. He will sometimes switch on his 1999 self.

NSFW part starts from here!

Warning: if you don't like to read this part please click off!

Gon and killua will be aged up to 18+

!Nsfw! headcanons

Gon would be the one to moan louder when they're in bed.

Killua would but not a lot. He would just let out a groan and few grunts

Killua would use his electric nen to send shock while fucking gon.

Killua will dominate the most.

Gon will be submissive because bro he is literally innocent to know about sex. He would let killua take the lead.

Killua have some experience in sex(he watches p-rn in 1999 ver)

Killua will be flustered at first when they're mating for the first time, but eventually will be gone after a few minutes.

Gon can't take his eyes off of killua and admire how beautiful he is.

Killua will be in heaven just to listening to gon moaning it is like a lullaby to him.

If he said to go slow..he only will fasten his speed.

Killua's favourite spot is bed and couch because its more comfortable.

Killua loves to mark gon and give him various hickies on his neck and thighs

Gon would be nervous at their first time mating.. because he is scared that it will hurt. Killua ensures him that it will be fine.

Gon loves gentle,slow and passionate sex but he would also love to have rough sex with killua if both of them are needy.

Gon can last around 2 rounds or maybe 3 if he has some energy left.

Man....killua...he would last around 5 to 6 rounds he would never get tired of pleasuring gon.

Killua would go in godspeed if gon wanted so.

(a/n: aaanyways...that's it. I will probably do a part 2 of killugon headcanons but there will be more nsfw because I only done few of em. If you have any headcanons share them!)

[slashingdisneypasta]

(Fae) King Roderick x Fem!Human!Reader || Drabble

Plot: 🌷🌲🌷 Roderick stops amid his day-to-day duties to watch a sweet human girl get attacked by some nasty goblins- and wonders to himself whether indeed he needs another pretty slave~ 🌷🌲🌷 🌷🌲🌷 🌷🌲🌷

Warnings: Goblin attack (They gang up on you, they hold you down, they jump on you, they bite you), Evil Roderick Thoughts (He likes violence. He wants to own you & use you), etc probably.

Roderick is my character! ^^ If you like him, please let me know!! I will die but don't worry I'll come back. This is the first time I'm writing him for... a long time, so he will develop as time goes on; But the basic principles of his character will remain the same.

@marinerainbow I'm tagging you because you're the only one who knows about Rod! XD Here he is in all his terrible glory. I hope you like him! 😅 XD

-You shouldn't have come here!-

-now we get to play with youu, heheh-

-Let's have some fun, little maid!

It was a mistake! I'm sorry! you cried, trying to pull your arm away from the evil little creature - a goblin, - that had you in his iron-grip, dragging you down to his level and his horrible sharp teeth and his black eyes. I didn't know! I'll go back! Just let me-

Fear and tears fill your eyes so beautifully, little maid. Roderick thought as he watched from high in a nearby tree. Neither you, nor the pesky squat little creatures knew he was there. He was in his small form, after all. Barely visible so high up.

He was only taking a wander through the woods just now- He only wanted to see his land, today. Whisper some simple encouragements to the trees, compliment the flowers for growing so gorgeously this spring, run his fingers through the grass, and generally spread some good cheer; make sure the forest was still his. On his side. Always listening, and reporting to him everything it heard.

He had no idea he would end up a witness to such pretty a sight. Seeing a lovely human girl roughed up and terrified by a few goblins was just always a nice surprise. Ever so pleasant.

Sure, he could easily get rid of the creatures. Call them off; he was the King of this forest, after all. He could save you as easily as he could order himself a sweet cup of honey and lavender tea. But you are all putting on such a good show... he'd hate to spoil it.

Two goblins now hold onto your arms and leave irritated red scratches in your skin with their jagged claws, another two nasty little creatures wrap around your legs and sit on your feet, and another- pounces onto your back, from a low-hanging branch in another tree. Your knees buckle under the weight of the fat bastard, and you slam into the dirt while all the creatures snigger and cackle cruelly at your pain and your fear. The one on your back digs his pointed nose into your hair and your neck, and takes a deep whiff.

The look on his face is down-right ravenous. Filthy. As if the dumb thing had been starved for days and it just came upon a whole roast pheasant feast.

Roderick's eyebrows climb up his forehead. Interesting... Well if you really smell that good, maybe he should save you. One look at you- the humble attire you adorn your sweet body with that hides everything and then some (Frustrating, Roderick thinks with an eyeroll), the fact that you're alone here in the first place (Humans rarely travel this deep into the forest. There are myths meant to warn you against such places, didn't you know dear?~ Roderick smirks. Fairy stories, I believe they aptly refer to them in town.)... tells him all he needs to know about you. He could so easily draw you to him. Make you grateful and charm you. Save you, and convince you it was good will... He doubted anyone would look for you for long, either. Maybe a month (A few mere hours at home). Not that that worried him at all; he had the power, here.

"... " After another moment, Roderick rolls his eyes and gets up off the tree branch he was sat and leering down at the scene on. "Ugh. What am I thinking?? I don't need anymore slaves." Cavalierly, he waives his hand and turns to fly off. "You just kidnapped another one the other week, Rod. That little flower nymph; go home and sate yourself on him for a little while. No one likes a greedy king."

He's about to disappear into the dark like he was never there at all, leave you to your fate at the hands of the cheeky little ground urchins-- but you let out a shriek suddenly.

A shriek that makes Roderick freeze; a delicious shiver racing up his spine as nearby sparrows shoot out of another tree and disappear above the treetops. A crooked grin slips across the fae king's bearded face, rolling his shoulders of the freezy thrill-feeling before he turns back around to you. There's a bite mark on your neck now; likely the cause of your pig-squeal.

"... or I could sate myself on you for a little while, hmm?" Another delectable screech, when one of the other goblins digs his sharp, yellow teeth into your calf. Roderick's vision goes red as his beautiful features take on a killer grin and he slowly flies forward. "I'll take that as an emphatic yes~ "